


Have adventures, make memories . . . sneak out to dances?

by salvatorestjohn



Category: Legacies (TV 2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pre-Canon, Angst, Attempted Murder, Background Relationships, Break Up, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Happy Hope Mikaelson, Lizzie Saltzman Needs a Hug, Minor Penelope Park/Josie Saltzman, Multi, Sad Josie Saltzman, School Dances
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-30
Updated: 2020-09-01
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:20:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 25,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26201032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/salvatorestjohn/pseuds/salvatorestjohn
Summary: There's a Decade Dance happening at Mystic Falls High, and word spreads around the Salvatore Boarding School. With its own lack of dances in the near future, how can a handful of kids with some rebelliousness and boredom not be tempted? Or dragged along, in some cases. But, as it turns out, the 30s? A decade of twists, a little heartbreak or two, dancing, and of course, attempted murder.
Relationships: Kaleb Hawkins/Hope Mikaelson, Landon Kirby/Lizzie Saltzman, Milton "MG" Greasley & Josie Saltzman
Comments: 12
Kudos: 22





	1. Mystic Falls High is having a Decade Dance?

The Salvatore Boarding School is perfect in Lizzie’s eyes. It's the best school that exists for supernatural beings of all kinds, they have some of the absolute best teachers including her own moms as well as her uncle Tyler. The uniforms have been altered exactly how she likes them and she looks fantastic in them despite any Hogwarts insult that those Mystic Falls High hooligans may throw at her. It's her home. 

But she is willing to admit that they have one fatal flaw. She tried to convince her mom that they should have a school dance five years. And then two years ago, for Christmas. And again for Valentine's day. And again for Halloween.

It's bad enough that they're already subjected to ridicule as the troubled rich kids, and for losing every single football game. They don't need to be made fun of for not even being allowed a highschool necessity. For some reason, her moms don't seem to understand that.

It's all about not drawing more attention to themselves than necessary. It's the same thing no matter how many times she asks, and she can’t convince either of them, because they’re like some terrifying united team. Even her step-dad or her step-moms can’t convince them!

That's why, when the word "dance" catches her ear while she's just sitting in the common room reading Cinderella is Dead, her full attention is caught. She lifts her head, twisting around in her chair to glance around the room. Her eyes lock onto MG and Kaleb, a couple of chairs away from her. 

Kaleb's head is bent and MG's nodding along. Her eyes narrow. They've only been at the school a few weeks, and she knows little to nothing about them except that they're vampires and Kaleb is somehow distantly related to her Aunt Bonnie, and MG has taken a liking to Josie. She's been noticing that they're together quite a lot, just hanging out. Kaleb and MG, that is, though Josie and MG are certainly spending a lot of time together.

It's not eavesdropping, she reasons as she shifts in the chair, angling to hear better as she tries to catch a glimpse of Kaleb's mouth to make out what he's saying better. She's a witch, she doesn't have their sensitive hearing, and it's really not her fault that they're talking about whatever they're trying to keep hushed up so openly. Besides, they listen in on any conversation they want whenever they like. Fair's fair.

"You're sure?" MG asks, concern and doubt in his voice. "'Cause I don't wanna get in trouble. I've only been here a couple weeks, I can't afford to get kicked out for breaking one of the rules."

Lizzie's eyebrows raise. Interest definitely piqued. 

"Nah, don't even worry about it," Kaleb says, clapping a hand on his shoulder. "I got this, alright? Trust me. We're not gonna get caught, and we're gonna have the time of our lives. I've heard that Mystic Falls High throws the best dances. There's some '30s theme or whatever, though, so make sure to dress up. Gotta blend in."

Lizzie's eyes widen and she whips around in her chair to face them completely. "Mystic Falls High is having a decade dance?"

Kaleb and MG both look over at her. She can't even bring herself to be sheepish. This is far more important than being caught eavesdropping. 

"What's it to you?" Kaleb throws back at her, not wanting to give any of the details away to her. He’s not stupid, he knows she’s he headmistresses’ daughter. 

She had thought she enjoyed that title, but when it means people won't tell her when they're breaking rules that she wants to break too, it's not so fun. 

"When is it?" she asks as if he hadn't spoken at all. "Did you say the theme is the 1930's? Are we talking early or late '30s, because there is a big difference, and the outfits vary, and I mean severely."

"It's not like you're going so what's it matter?" Kaleb asks again, pointed this time.

"Of course I'm going," she counters, defensive and frankly insulted that he’s so convinced otherwise.

Kaleb stares at her in obvious disbelief. Even MG is doubtful but is trying to keep himself out of it, glancing uncertainly between the two of them and beginning to wonder if he should be considering enrolling at the school. In fact, he may not have to if they get caught—he might be looking for some other school by the end of the week.

"Yeah, right," Kaleb says, practically laughing at the thought. "As if little miss perfect is gonna sneak out. I bet you haven't broken a single one of either of your mom's rules in your life.”

Lizzie can't help but be insulted. Kaleb's barely been at the school for two months and he has the nerve to act like he knows her? Who is he to say that she doesn't break the rules? 

"I've broken plenty of my mothers’ rules," she says, sticking her chin out, but Kaleb doesn't look even slightly convinced. "I practice offensive magic, I go to forbidden parties out at the old mill. I break the rules. And I'm breaking this one. So. I repeat my question: when is the decade dance at Mystic Falls High?"

Kaleb stares, his eyes discreetly moving over her. Not discreet enough for her not to notice. He considers her for a moment. She stubbornly crosses her arms, tucking her book underneath as she waits. 

"Alright," Kaleb says at last, leaning back. "The dance is tonight, in two hours. Mid '30s theme."

Lizzie straightens up. "I'll be there."

"Uh-huh," Kaleb says, then turns away from her with a smug look, knowing that she doesn’t have the guts to follow through on it. 

She glares at him, because she can tell what he’s thinking, and she refuses to let him be right about her. But she lets it drop as he starts talking to MG again. As she settles back into her chair, pulling her book back into view, she forms a plan in her head. 

She is not missing this dance. Especially not a decade dance; her mom has gushed about them and being on the decorating committee, and how much fun they always were when people weren’t getting possessed by Hope Mikaelson's dad, and people weren't trying to sacrifice themselves for their friends. She has to be there to be able to inform her mom on if they're still just as good or not. 


	2. We have a much more pressing issue

"Stop it," Josie giggles as Penelope breaks away from the kiss yet again to press her lips to her neck, right where she knows she’s ticklish. She pushes lightly at her shoulders but only ends up sliding her hands up to either side of her neck. "That's completely unfair."

Penelope hums her disagreement without moving and Josie rolls her eyes. The corners of her mouth curve up. All it takes is a couple of words muttered under her breath and they flip as quickly and smoothly as if she were a vampire.

Josie grins down at her smugly as Penelope huffs, caught off-guard. She blows a strand of hair from her face, only half successful in moving it. Josie reaches down and carefully tucks it behind her ear. Penelope smiles up at her. She doesn't make a move to try and regain the upper hand she likes to pretend that she always has. 

"Cheater," she simply says, a glint in her eyes. 

Josie's grin widens and she leans down as Penelope pulls lightly with a hand on the back of her neck, meeting her halfway. Kissing Penelope always has this fluttering erupting inside of her, like little wings brushing against every nerve in her body. It's sweet, and soft, and perfect, and at least forty percent love, and sixty-percent lust.

Penelope's other hand starts to travel, moving down her back over her shirt that's starting to ride up. It settles on her waist for a moment, but Josie knows it won't stay there for long. Sure enough, her fingers stretch out, flexing, brushing underneath her shirt. 

Her skin immediately heats at the contact, like a fire spreading through her entire body. Josie kisses her deeper, a little faster. Penelope responds with great affection, tilting her head up to meet her movements with ease. Her fingers are distracting, though, carefully edging up beneath her shirt ever so slowly.

Josie startles as the door opens without warning. There's a familiar exaggerated gasp, followed by a disgusted noise before she even manages to pull herself off of Penelope. 

"In our room?" Lizzie asks irritatedly. "Really, Jo?"

Josie rolls her eyes but quickly gets off of Penelope and turns to face the door. Lizzie's standing with a hand over her eyes, but Josie can still see the twisted expression on her face. Dramatic as always, though she doesn't voice that as her own face flushes. 

"Relax, Lizzie," Penelope says, pushing herself up into a sitting position as Lizzie peeks through her fingers to see if it's safe for her to look again. She smirks but feigns innocence. "It's not like we were doing it on your bed. Though I suggested it."

"Ugh, you really are Satan." Lizzie drops her hand only to cross her arms, directing a glare at Penelope. "Just get out before I hex you. I need to talk to my sister who apparently needs an intervention on having the worst taste in people."

Josie sighs, but she keeps her mouth shut. Penelope feigns a cooing noise though and starts to stand, and Josie's eyes widen as they dart to her. She wants to say something before either of them can, and yet, nothing is coming out of her mouth even when her lips part. Why can’t she just, for once, stop them?

"Was that really the best you could come up with?" Penelope asks, throwing pity into her voice as she steps closer to Lizzie. Josie can already see at least four ways in which this could end badly. And Penelope plans on trying for all of them.

Lizzie stares her down and just her chin out, but the second that Penelope takes another step closer, Lizzie falters. It's so strange for Josie to see her practically shrinking in on herself on the inside while the outside remains so close to cool, calm, collected and totally pissed. 

Penelope sighs, tilting her head. "I guess you'll just have to join Jojo in that intervention then, won't you?"

Josie’s heart leaps. She’s completely still, unmoving. Lizzie visibly tenses, but Penelope doesn't care one bit. Josie is sure she should intervene, and she desperately wants to, except when Penelope and Lizzie start tearing each other's throats out, no one can stop them.

"I mean, you did have a crush on me as well after all," Penelope continues, keeping up her innocent act. She gives a slight chuckle, shrugging. "I guess bad taste just runs in the family. Just like some other things. . .”

There it is. The low blow that always sends Lizzie right over the edge. Accepting rejection has always been hard enough for her, never mind the constant jabs and reminders of it. Josie's tried to get Penelope to stop, but something just happens whenever they're in the presence of each other and everything goes straight out the window. 

And throwing in that last part? None of them needs the other things to be specified, they all know exactly what Penelope is referring to, and honestly, it has Josie’s stomach twisting a little as well. Penelope doesn’t care about hurting Lizzie with any insult, even when it’s family-related, but Josie never tells her how much it hurts her, too. After all, Lizzie’s her twin. And those things run through her DNA as well, even if not in the same way.

Lizzie presses her lips tightly together, and Josie catches how her jaw moves ever so subtly in that way that never ends well. She's quick off the bed and standing beside them, needing to prevent at least some part of the disaster unfolding in front of her. 

"I'll catch up with you later, okay?" she says, directing it at Penelope. There’s a slight lack of the fondness that had been there before, doing her best to mask the hurt still twisting around in her heart. "The Grill. Seven, yeah?"

"Are you crazy?" Lizzie asks her, her eyes darting from her to Penelope and back again in disbelief. "Are you seriously—"

"You wanted to talk to me about something?" Josie swiftly cuts her off, turning her attention to her. She hates confrontation, especially with Lizzie. She just needs her to play along for once. "What was it?"

Lizzie gapes at her, her eyes still moving. Penelope doesn't move an inch, and for a moment, they're all just standing there, waiting to see who will make the next move. That's usually how it goes lately. 

Penelope finally gets the message and sighs. Her shoulders rising and falling with a touch of exaggeration. But she smiles, blows her a kiss, winks at Lizzie mockingly, then walks out of the room with a promise to meet Josie at the Grill as planned. The tension slowly starts to ease from Josie’s body with the risk of disaster quickly lowered. It doesn’t dislodge the lump in her throat though.

She turns back to Lizzie and is met with a familiar glare. One of hurt and that same angered disbelief. Maybe she spoke too soon.

"I cannot believe that you are still dating her," Lizzie says, trying to sound disgusted and just plain annoyed, but there’s no masking the hint of betrayal she’s feeling. In all honesty, Lizzie has thought that Josie wouldn’t accept when Penelope asked her out after everything that happened, and then when she did, she was sure they would have ended things by now. 

"I love her, of course I'm still with her," Josie says, but her voice is small and weak in comparison. She can barely even bring herself to look her in the eyes after that argument, the guilt clawing at her from the inside, and she really doesn’t need Lizzie picking up on how much it’s affecting her as well. The words don’t even quite feel the same coming out of her mouth. Like a robot just repeating what it’s been told to say. 

Lizzie scoffs at Josie’s words, because, love? Seriously? How can she love literal Satan in training? She doesn’t say that, of course, but Josie knows she wants to. Anger flares in her, but she pushes it down, smothering it like a flame, because, well . . . how can she really blame Lizzie for being hurt by all of this? Especially when she kind of is as well.

"She's soulless, Jo," Lizzie says as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. "She doesn't know how to love."

"You don't know her like I do.” 

Weak. A pathetic protest. Even Josie knows it, even if she does mean it, because Lizzie doesn’t know Penelope in the way that she does. Yet, knowing more about who Penelope really is doesn’t make her feel like she can really argue in her defence to Lizzie, of all people. 

"As if I would want to," Lizzie bites out. "She is evil incarnate and that's all I need to know. But anyway. We have a much more pressing issue."

"What is it?" Josie asks, now alert. Maybe it's about their mom. She's been away a few months and hasn't really been in touch all that much. Recruiting new students can't take this long, surely.

"What are we going to wear to Mystic Falls High's Decade Dance?" 

Josie stops. "Wait, what?"

"I mean," Lizzie continues as if she didn't hear her, walking around her and over to the full-length mirror in the corner of the room, "it's '30s themed, according to Kaleb, who I am choosing to trust.”

Josie turns around, staring after her in confusion, her brow furrowing. She has to be hearing her wrong. 

"Now," Lizzie spins back on her heel to face her, holding her hands up with an all too familiar look on her face, "we may not have anything explicitly '30s themed in our own wardrobes. But with a little bit of magic, I have a feeling that we could tweak a few items, figure out a good look."

"Lizzie, we can't," Josie blurts out.

"Not with that attitude," Lizzie says, then promptly spins right back around and waves her hand. 

Their drawers fly open, revealing all of their clothes. Josie gapes at her back in disbelief, but Lizzie notices in the reflection of the mirror and pays her no mind. Typical. 

"Now, we need to decide if we're going elegant with a sort of floor-length gown," Lizzie goes on, picking through her own clothes with efficiency, regarding them for a moment before tossing them to the side, "the ones with an open back and look like they're made of silk, you know?"

Josie doesn't chime in her agreement. She's trying to figure out how exactly she can convince Lizzie out of this completely ridiculous and idiotic plan before it goes too far like it always does. Just for once, she would like to not have to fix some mess that she's been dragged into. 

"Or we could go with a more classy look. " Lizzie pauses, staring at one of her shirts with narrowed eyes for just a moment before making a face and tossing it with the rest. "A nice dress could work, cut it off just at the knee, add in a floral pattern here or there. None of the gross ones, obviously. Or a nice chiffon blouse with some pants — I think I have just the thing, actually. Do you remember that shirt I got last spring when we were in Amsterdam?"

That's it. It's going too far already, and Josie isn't even entirely sure what she's talking about in the first place except that it involves Mystic Falls High and sneaking out, two things that can't be good when it comes to Lizzie.

"You can't seriously be planning on sneaking out to go to a dance at another school," Josie says, stepping closer to her, hoping that her tone alone points out how bad of an idea that is, even for them. "For one, it's against the rules."

Lizzie goes still for a moment, a dark blue blouse held between her hands. It's ruffled slightly at the collar and is made out of silk. Oh, Amsterdam. It was so nice there. She should see if she can convince Mom to let Stefan take her over to meet Mom, Valerie, and Lexi.

"Who cares about the rules?" Lizzie then says, catching Josie by surprise. She sighs and puts the blouse down before turning back to her. "We always follow the rules, Jo. And we never get to have any fun because of them."

"Keeping our secret and the people of Mystic Falls safe is more important than fun," Josie tries to reason.

"God, Kaleb was right," Lizzie groans, and Josie's eyebrows draw together. "Josie. Breaking the rules and sneaking out to high school dances is just a part of being a teenager. It's not like it's a full moon, and even if it were, none of the wolves are coming."

Josie stops at that. "Who exactly is coming?"

"Us, Kaleb, and MG," Lizzie says as if it's totally normal for her to be saying that. Even she knows how weird this situation is becoming.

For one, Josie herself has barely talked to Kaleb. She's already close with MG even though he's only been at the school for about two months, but she can't recall Lizzie speaking more than ten words to him in total since the introductory tour. As far as she's concerned, they're the least likely people for Lizzie to be talking about, never mind sneaking out to rival dances with.

"It's just for a couple of hours," Lizzie goes on, her casual persuasion turning to pleading. She even widens her eyes, holding her gaze. "Mom, and Aunt Bonnie, and Jenna, and even Stefan, have told us a million times what the Decade Dances were like, remember? Don't you want to see one for yourself?" 

Josie wants to say no. This is a terrible idea, and she knows it, and Lizzie does as well, even if she won't admit it. But they can both recall every little detail that their mom described with such nostalgic fondness when talking about the decade dances. It makes the hollow part of Josie’s chest ache. Her mom's been away so much lately. Maybe going to a dance at the school she went to wouldn't be so bad. 

"Is there anything I can do to convince you not to do this?" she asks all the same, giving it one last, feeble attempt.

Lizzie's already smirking. able to read her like they share the same mind. They may well do, because Lizzie already knew what the outcome of this would be, just as she knows every time she convinces Josie into doing something that’s trying to be all reluctant about.

"Nope. So. Elegant ball gown, casual dress, or blouse?"

Josie sighs. She eyes the pile of clothes, able to pick out items that she's sure are her own mixed in with Lizzie's. 

"I think I could do a spell on that dress I have," she says. "The dark green one? Sort of glittery and super long? But — for you, not me. Elegance isn't really my thing."

Lizzie's face lights up and she agrees immediately, all for the idea. Josie can't help but smile a little as they start searching through their clothes, together this time. In truth, there's a fluttering of excitement in her stomach at the thought of going. Maybe a dance is just what they need. 


	3. Lead the way, witches

Hope would be a liar if she said she isn't curious when she spots Lizzie and Josie sneaking back and forth between their room and the bathrooms at least three times in the space of ten minutes, clutching sparkling, pastel-coloured fabrics. Neither of them notices her sitting at the end of the hallway, a book in her lap. She's not surprised, and if she's honest, she doesn't really care.

She'd prefer they ignored her rather than have to get up and find somewhere else in the school to read that isn't her room and she won't be told off for if she gets caught. Her head feels like it's going to fall off her shoulders and her entire body is restless. But the gates and doors are locked for the night, and Hope never feels comfortable going out into the woods around here at night. She’s heard plenty of the cautionary tales from Stefan and pretty much every single book in the school’s library.

She tries to keep her eyes focused on her book, reading over a paragraph that she's pretty sure she just read. Movement to her right catches her eyes and she slowly peers over at it, barely turning her head. Lizzie's half-sticking out of the bathroom, talking in a hushed voice to Josie. Hope's eyebrows furrow at the glimpse of dark green she can barely just see on Lizzie. A dress?

Now that she's really looking, the paragraph abandoned once more, Josie's wearing some sort of blouse-thing. Even their hair looks different; styled and done up. As if they're going somewhere. Except it's half nine at night, and they look far too fancy for one of the usual "secret" parties down at the Old Mill. 

"No, the black ones, definitely not the red," Hope just barely manages to catch Lizzie saying. "They won't go with this, and I need to be as accurate as possible. If we're going to blend in for this dance, then we have to do it right. No half-measures."

Josie rolls her eyes, and Hope would as well if she wasn't so confused. 

"Lizzie, it's a high school dance.” She shakes her head. “No one's outfit is going to be accurate. I'll be surprised if half of them even get the decade right and don't show up in something from the '20s instead. Besides, don't you think we're going to stand out anyway? Everyone at Mystic Falls High knows who we are."

"Not if we blend in well enough," Lizzie argues insistently and waves a hand for Josie to follow her original instruction. "Black shoes. And grab that really nice, dark shade of red lipstick I have on my dresser! The crimson one!"

As Josie turns and hurries back into their room and Lizzie disappears back into the bathroom, Hope stares at the now empty hallway in disbelief. A decade dance. At Mystic Falls High. She heard there was one coming up while she was passing through town earlier and everyone was out getting ready for it. 

There's no way that Lizzie and Josie would sneak out, surely. Lizzie likes to go out to the "secret" Old Mill parties, but Caroline and Dr. Laughlin really never put up much of a fight against those, so it's not exactly the most rebellious thing. Josie, on the other hand; Hope's close enough to Penelope to know the rules that Josie breaks, even sneaking out with Penelope and MG one night just to walk around town, using magic in public. Yet the idea of them sneaking out to a dance at Mystic Falls High, of all places, seems completely out of the question for either of them. 

A moment passes and Hope considers just going back to her book and ignoring them. It's best to stay out of these sorts of things, especially when it involves the Forbes twins. But when she hears the slight creak of a door opening again, she looks back up and watches Lizzie come out to meet Josie in the hall this time, taking the shoes and the lipstick from her. 

Her guess was right, she realizes, now fully able to see the floor-length, dark green, shimmering gown that Lizzie's wearing. It looks like something out of her Aunt Rebekah's closet. Her collection of elegant dresses and gowns that she acquired from princesses and as gifts from rather “generous” nobles over the centuries. 

There's a faint creak from one of the rooms further down the hall, just around the corner. Hope's eyebrows furrow and she leans a little to her left, tilting her head. Kaleb appears from his room, trying to be as quiet as possible as he closes his door with MG quickly doing the same from his own room. Both of them are dressed up in old-fashioned clothing as well. 

She presses her lips together and gives a slight shake of her head. Decade dance. Of course. She can't help but be a little more surprised at MG's willingness to sneak out; she doesn't know him all that well considering he's still technically new, as is Kaleb, but he seemed happy enough with sticking to the guidelines Caroline and Dr. Laughlin set for them. Explains the way his eyes are nervously flitting around.

Hope glances from them to Lizzie and Josie, then sighs. This can't be good. Four supernaturals sneak out to another high school's dance full of humans. Sounds like the start to a really bad, bound-to-end-in-disaster joke. Especially with just who exactly is going. 

"No," Kaleb says, now facing MG, a chuckle to his voice. "Trust me, there's no way that Lizzie's actually gonna sneak out. I'm just hoping she hasn't snitched on us."

They both turn around and start to walk down the hallway, directly toward her. She diverts her gaze back down to her book, deciding there and then that she wants nothing to do with this. Breaking the rules isn't something that really bothers her, but she's already irritated enough, and she just honestly doesn't need any more Forbes Twin drama in her life. 

But she hears the falter in both of their steps and can feel their eyes on her. Hope lifts her eyes back up to them. She raises her eyebrows at them, hoping that maybe they'll just keep on walking and leave her be. 

"Hey, Hope," MG says with a nervous smile. He's not very good at the whole sneaking around thing, and he’ll admit it. Adjusting to being a vampire is hard enough, never mind throwing in casual rebelliousness as well.

His voice catches the attention of Lizzie and Josie as they both look over as well now. They finally notice her presence and now Hope has four sets of wary, suspicious eyes on her. Wonderful. That's exactly what she wanted. 

"What are you doing?" Lizzie asks sharply, her set of suspicious eyes narrowing, crossing her arms. "Spying on us?"

Hope's eyebrows furrow again. "No? I'm clearly reading. I literally couldn't care less about whatever you're doing."

"That's what someone who's spying on us would say," Lizzie retorts.

Hope rolls her eyes. “I’ve been sitting here for two hours. I didn’t even notice you were here until, like, ten minutes ago. I really don’t care what you’re doing and I don’t want to know.” She looks back down at her book. “The more deniability I can have, the better.”

“Sounds good,” Kaleb says, rubbing his hands together, ready to get going. 

MG’s in agreement with leaving her alone to her own business, and Josie, still watching her warily with crossed arms, looks willing to let it drop and leave with them. 

“No,” Lizzie says, her eyes narrowed and fixed on Hope like she’s about to run off to one of their parents and rat them out. She certainly wouldn’t put it past her. Before Hope can insist that she really would rather just finish her book, Lizzie lifts her head and, with a displeased but determined expression, says, “She’s coming with us.”

“ _ What? _ ” asks Josie and MG, in just slightly different forms of disbelief. Josie’s wide eyes dart from Lizzie to Hope, while MG’s just as confused at having not been informed of this part of the plan beforehand. 

Kaleb, on the other hand, looks at Hope thoughtfully, eyes skimming her up and down for a second. He then shakes his head. 

“She’ll give us away. I’d rather not be kicked out five minutes after we get there.”

“Then you don’t have to worry, because I am not going,” Hope says firmly, turning a pointed glare on Lizzie. 

“Yes, you are.” Lizzie doesn’t look like she’s going to back down in the slightest. This obviously isn’t what she wanted, but she’s said it now, which means she isn’t going to change her mind. “She can wear one of my dresses. We’ll make her look the part.”

Kaleb is satisfied with that. MG just wants to go before they get caught, but Josie is incredulous. Hope scoffs. 

Closing her book, she gets to her feet. “You’re not doing anything to me. And I’m definitely not wearing anything of yours, or going anywhere with you. And—even if I was going to go along with whatever insane plan you’ve got going on here, I have clothes of my own, thanks.”

Lizzie raises an eyebrow, a cruel smirk flicking the corner of her mouth upwards as she crosses her arms. “Really? Something besides you actually survived that fire?”

Hope’s stomach lurches. A scent catches in the air. Can she smell smoke? It had to just be her imagination, a reaction brought on by the mention of it. Thinking about it always makes her head light. She clenches her jaw against the lump in her throat at Lizzie’s smugness. 

“Lizzie,” Josie chides her, but her voice is so quiet and she avoids looking up. Something uncomfortable stirs in the pit of her stomach. Guilt.

“Uncalled for, Forbes,” Kaleb agrees. He only knows a little of what happened before he got to the school, with the fire and Hope’s room, little snippets he’s picked up from others, but even he knows it’s a low blow.

Lizzie gapes at him as if he’s the one in the wrong, her open mouth ready to start spouting protests. Kaleb’s uninterested, though, already turning away from her to nod at Hope.

“You got something that’ll blend with the '30s?”

Hope recalls the handful of dresses Aunt Rebekah brought over in a trunk for her a week after the fire. It was to make her feel better, to feel like she still had something that belonged to her besides the few things that survived the fire. It worked, too. Made her feel a little less distanced from her, and the rest of the family, and she does appreciate everything that her mom and dad tried to replace, but the dresses just have a special place with her.

“It doesn’t matter if I do, because I’m not going,” she says. 

MG steps forward. “I didn’t think it was a good idea, either, but come on. A dance? You don’t think it’ll be even a little fun? We could do with a break from our lives, couldn’t we?”

“Yeah, you’re always stressing and tense,” Kaleb says.

Hope frowns at him, her forehead furrowing.

He shrugs. “Pretending to be invisible doesn’t make it true. I don’t know you that well, but even I can tell you need to get out of this place and have some fun. And, it’s just a couple of hours. You can leave after ten minutes if you want to! But why not just come along and see?”

Many reasons come to Hope’s mind. Aunt Freya’s advice on being careful, and Aunt Rebekah telling her to listen to Caroline because she’s actually pretty smart and knows what she’s talking about. She purposefully ignores everything her dad says about Caroline, but she does know how much he and her mom trust her and Dr. Laughlin, and even Jenna and Stefan. 

But Aunt Freya and Rebekah have both also told her their many tales about rebelling a little, especially Rebekah, who said when it comes to having a little fun, you’re allowed to leave logic behind sometimes (to which Marcel had scoffed, but joined in with a couple of stories of his own). And Uncle Kol would definitely be all for it. And her mom did tell her to go out and have adventures. Come back with amazing stories. And her dad? He would not necessarily encourage rebellion, but she also knows that he would secretly approve. 

She’s not sure that an hour or two at some lame high school dance with the jerks from Mystic Falls High and the Forbes twins will be all that exciting, but at the very least she can tell them she snuck out to go to a different school’s decade dance. They’ll like that, she thinks.

She glances over at Lizzie and Josie, the former of whom is still looking grumpy about practically being scolded by Kaleb, and the latter who still won’t even look at any of them. 

Hope sighs. “I assume we’re taking one of the tunnels from the basement?”

Kaleb grins. “Well, I was just gonna try the front door, but if you’d prefer to do it the hard way.”

“No, she’s right,” Lizzie says, and she isn’t happy about it. “There’s a tunnel that leads straight out of the grounds. It would be less risky than just waltzing out the front gates. We just need to make sure we don’t take the wrong one or we’ll end up in the armoury like fifty miles away.”

“I’m gonna trust you know which one’s which?” MG says nervously, his eyes wide. 

Lizzie ignores him, turning back to Hope. “You have five minutes. Try and make yourself look reasonably decent, would you?”

Clenching her jaw, Hope refrains from firing anything back at her. She just rolls her eyes as Lizzie ushers Josie back towards the bathroom to add a few last-minute touches. 

“She always like that?” Kaleb asks. 

“Not all the time, and not to everyone,” Hope says, shaking her head. She may not know why Lizzie hates her so much, but she won’t badmouth her behind her back. “We just have. . . a complicated relationship. Now, I’m going to go and get ready for a dance, apparently.”

She leaves Kaleb and MG out in the hall, closing her door behind her to do as she said. Which is to prove herself an idiot, she’s sure. It’s not even like it has the possibility of being all that fun with those Mystic Falls jerks. But . . . maybe it won’t be so bad.

Going over to the trunk by the bottom of her bed, she kneels down and opens it up. Inside is various different coloured fabrics, from pale pink to dark green, some glittering with sequins and others with real jewels. Thirties, Kaleb said. Her aunt Rebekah was desiccated in a box for that decade as far as she remembers, but she’s sure there must be something that’ll work.

Within four minutes, she’s stepping back out into the hallway. MG’s only gotten more antsy and anxious the longer they have to hang around, but he smiles at her when he sees her all the same. Kaleb gives an appreciative nod. He acts like he’s being discreet with the lingering glance at her very late twenties style dress, a dark red gown with flared, ruffled sleeves and a sloping neckline.

Hope raises an eyebrow at him when he lifts his eyes back to hers. There’s a twitch at the corner of his lips that throws her off. Then a door down the hall opens, and everyone’s attention diverts to Lizzie and Josie as they reappear. 

Lizzie gives Hope a glance as well, more of reluctant approval. Josie’s anxiously playing with a bracelet on her wrist. Not the only one to notice, MG breaks away from Kaleb to stand next to her, taking her hand and giving it a light squeeze.

“We’re not gonna get caught,” he assures her. He cracks a smile. “And just think, Penelope’s jaw is gonna drop when she sees you. Mine already has!”

“Wait, back up a minute there,  _ Milton _ ,” Lizzie says, earning a snicker from Kaleb and an exclamation of protest from MG. “You did not just say that Satan was coming with us, did you?”

MG’s clearly put his foot in it. His eyes quickly grow ten times their size and dart to Josie in uncertainty. “Uh. . . no?”

Walking slowly towards him, Lizzie crosses her arms, and asks, in a dangerously calm voice, “Who else, pray tell, is coming with us? Because I was under the impression that it was only us. That’s why you were being so secretive about it, is it not?”

Kaleb snorts, and when Lizzie’s sharp stare turns on him, he says, “We were just keeping it quiet because we knew you were around. Didn’t exactly want the daughter of the heads of the school hearing that we were planning on sneaking out, did we? But we’re not the only ones going to this thing.”

A bad feeling is starting to come over Hope as the chances of tonight ending well quickly grow slimmer with each new revelation. How did she let herself be dragged into this?

Lizzie can’t decide between being outraged at Kaleb’s comment or at MG for not telling her anyway. She turns on Josie instead.

“This is you, isn’t it?” she accuses. “You invited Satan, didn’t you?”

“Yeah, I did ask Penelope if she wanted to come,” Josie says.

It surprises Hope—and Josie and Lizzie—how firm and argumentative her voice is, ready to fight back any insults Lizzie may have—and Hope knows that there are many she’s probably got stored in a little box in the back of her mind labelled “for enemies.” She’s heard a couple of them first-hand, sometimes aimed at herself, most of the time at others, but mostly Penelope. 

Fortunately, being able to predict when a storm is brewing comes in handy. 

“We should go,” Hope quickly says.

“Okay, well, who knows the way out through the freaky basement dungeons?” Kaleb asks, eyeing the three girls, as MG is even less likely to know the way around than him.

“I do,” all three of them say. 

Lizzie directs her glare at Hope as if she’s trying to undermine her in some way. Honestly, Hope will never fully understand their rivalry or just why Lizzie loathes her so much. Maybe it’s because of the whole history between Hope’s dad and Lizzie’s parents, but she isn’t sure, and Lizzie isn’t keen to elaborate on the subject either, so, what more can she do but go along with it? 

“All right then, lead the way, witches.” Kaleb looks at Hope with a smile. “And were-witch.”

Hope’s eyebrows draw together. She really doesn’t know Kaleb that well, having not had much interacting with him in the few weeks he’s been here. There’s something confusing about him she can’t quite figure out, and it’s oddly curious. 

Allowing a small smile back, she goes ahead, Kaleb at her side with Lizzie, Josie and MG already setting off for the basement.

So, Kaleb may have purposefully left out the names of just who else they were meeting up with in the middle of town. He and Hope are both still trying to decide if that was a good idea or a bad one when they see Lizzie’s face upon spotting Penelope, Alyssa, and Jed waiting for them. It wasn’t entirely Kaleb’s decision to bring Jed; Alyssa has a knack for persuasion.

“This just turned into the lamest dance ever,” Lizzie grumbles, crossing her arms and raising an eyebrow at the three, unwanted, new additions to their group.

The feeling is unanimous from them. Hope imagines how nice it would be, to be sitting in a little nook, a little tucked away part of the school, finding out what happens to Simon and Baz and if their relationship will survive the road trip. She’s got a feeling that none of them are going to survive this. 

Josie moves over to Penelope, the two greeting each other with the usual smiles. No one misses Lizzie rolling her eyes when Penelope winds an arm around Josie’s waist. No one points it out, and Hope shares in the collective sense of relief that Lizzie doesn’t say anything, nor Penelope. Those three have been a bit of a touchy subject since the infamous public rejection of 2029. There are a lot of touchy subjects.

“I can’t believe it,” Alyssa says, smirking as she proves Hope’s point. She steps towards Lizzie, eyes raking down her so slowly, seizing her up with an obvious look of judgement. “You actually got Rapunzel to leave her tower. Mother won’t be very happy, will she?”

Another rivalry that Hope really does not need to be getting tangled in. One a little more inevitable unfortunately, though, as it was apparently decided Hope took Alyssa’s side. She wasn’t aware that giving someone a little bit of comfort when they’re crying on the anniversary of their whole family’s death was counted as taking a side until Lizzie made it very clear that it did. 

And that’s just the witches. Kaleb and Jed won’t even look at each other. The rivalries within the Salvatore School are ridiculous, but try as everyone might, it’s a lot harder than expected to untangle a centuries-long divide.

Lizzie’s glare is like ice, and she opens her mouth to fire something back at Alyssa. Hope can already predict the harshness of it as Lizzie starts to form the words, “At least I—”

But she, surprisingly, cuts herself off. Her attention has been thoroughly diverted to something much more interesting. Hope follows her line of sight out of morbid curiosity, wanting to at least know what disaster she’s about to be pulled into. Couldn’t have just stayed in her room to read, could she? Or even gone to Dr. Laughlin to tell her she was feeling a bit restless. Even Stefan. He’s particularly good at knowing how to calm her down. Something he learned from being around her dad so much, he told her. 

Of course. A group Mystic Falls High students are making their way towards the school. Four of them in thirties-ish looking dresses, one in a shirt and suspenders with a long, swishy skirt, and the other two in similar outfits but with flaring trousers. One of them just happens to glance back at their own little group.

“I am going to go charm me a timberwolf,” Lizzie finishes with a wolfish smirk of her own. Her eyes dart to Jed and her lips stretch slightly into almost a sneer. “Emphasis on _ timber _ and not  _ were _ . I could do without the whole trying to tear my throat out once a month thing.”

“Yeah, you have enough mood swings in a day for the both of you,” says Penelope, with an acidic and biting smile.

“Penelope!” Josie pulls away from her, not shocked but upset, and even a little angry. If Hope’s not mistaken, there’s the darkest flicker in her eyes; a familiar one. 

“Wait, Lizzie, I wouldn’t,” Hope says, quickly recognizing one or two faces within the group of Timberwolves, “that’s—”

“And why would I listen to you?” Lizzie asks, with an accusatory glare, as if this is somehow  _ Hope _ ’s fault. 

Without saying another word, and leaving Hope floundering, Lizzie straightens her shoulders and walks away. Well, kind of floats, actually, with the way the dress covers her feet, giving her a sort of wispy, gliding aura. 

“Good riddance,” Alyssa says with a sigh, tucking her hair behind her hair in an obvious attempt to casually flip it and bring the attention back to her. 

It works on most of them, anyway. Hope casts a glance over at Lizzie, who’s managed to infiltrate the group of Timberwolves as easily as if she was one of them. Connor’s already got an arm around her shoulders. A wolf in sheep’s clothing doesn’t feel appropriate and yet also seems rather fitting at the moment considering the supposed wolves are the ones in more danger than Lizzie. 

Tuning back in to her own little “squad” or clique or whatever the hell they’re probably called by the residents of Mystic Falls, she finds them in disagreement. Penelope and Josie at the centre of it, with MG and Jed trying to be the peacekeepers, and Alyssa and Kaleb just aren’t taking any interest whatsoever.

This is not what she signed up for. Rolling her eyes, Hope slips away on her own and heads towards the school, though making sure to stay behind Lizzie’s new friends so as to not get dragged in as well. Her eyes dart around for a familiar curly head instead. Maybe then she’ll at least have someone to talk to that won’t start an argument over nothing. Ten minutes, she decides. She’ll give the dance ten minutes, and then she’s going back to the Salvatore School. 


	4. Maybe you should have listened then

This was the best decision Lizzie could have made. She was so sure that everyone who went to Mystic Falls High was one of those jerks she plays against every year and is forced to lose to save their little egos. But these people have been so nice to her. Especially Connor. Even if he, admittedly, is usually one of those jerks.

And honestly? The school’s a lot more appealing when she’s not only here for a game. Maybe it’s because the gym has been transformed into a 30s-themed dream, going all out on the decorations as if her mom was still on the committee. She is definitely finding out about this, even if it gets Lizzie in a little bit of trouble; she needs to know that they’re keeping up her legacy and doing it with  _ pride _ !

A shiver runs down her spine, starting from the brush of skin against her neck. Lizzie laughs, turning on the spot she’s dancing in with her new friends. Connor tucks her hair behind her ear, moving with her. 

“You’re never this nice to me on the field,” Lizzie says, having to shout slightly to be heard over the music, unlike back at home, where she could whisper and still be heard by half of the people in the room.

Connor chuckles. “Neither are you. Aren’t you always the one threatening to kick our asses after the game?”

“Because you always win!” 

Shrugging, Connor grins, and says, “Yeah, but you always put up a tough challenge. I like the frenemy thing, Forbes, you know. A little bit of rivalry’s never hurt anyone.”

Lizzie raises an eyebrow, and snorts, because she has heard many stories and read many books that say otherwise. Her whole home and school was built  _ because _ rivalries hurt.

Connor nods, giving another chuckle as he rolls his eyes. “Okay, so they can. But. . .”

He dances closer. Maybe it’s just a coincidence, or her imagination, she thinks. That doesn’t stop her breath from catching slightly, unnoticeable to a normal human like Connor. Or at least, so she thought until his smile grows, glancing down as if he can literally see her heart beating faster.

No. She has been spending  _ way too much _ time with vampires and werewolves. 

“. . . I think ours could be more interesting than all those boring, predictable ones.” He’s able to talk in a soft murmur now, leaning in with his lips inches from her ear. “Don’t you think?”

Lizzie isn’t sure she remembers how to think at all. She can’t tell if she’s still dancing or not. Something about his hand on her waist tells her she isn’t. He definitely has to notice her breath catch as he runs the tips of his fingers down her neck, to the edge of the collar on her dress. 

Everyone else has disappeared. It’s just the two of them, standing there on the dance floor, under the glow of light pink-ish, rose-coloured lights. Lizzie nods, figuring out how to control her limbs again.

“Yeah,” she breathes out, her mouth dry. “Who wants predictable?”

“Exactly. So, why don’t we be a little unpredictable?”

Lizzie’s heart is fluttering so much she’s worried that magic is about to burst out of her. God, please no, that would be the most humiliating and worst possible thing that could happen at this very moment. 

Before she can muster up the breath and the words to respond, there’s a hand coming between the two of them, giving Connor a shove to his shoulder. It has him stumbling a few steps to regain balance.

“Hey there, whatcha two up to? Connor, bothering another girl, _ really _ ?” Stefanie tuts in mock disappointment, shaking her head at him and resting the hand not currently holding a red plastic cup on her hip. “Haven’t we talked about this?”

Lizzie groans. Stefanie freaking Salvatore. The spitting image of Aunt Bonnie, yet with all the personality of Uncle Damon. You know, the last moment in time that you want your younger step-cousin to show up is when you’re seconds away from hooking up with the hottest guy of the century who you have incredible sexual tension with. Okay, maybe not the hottest, but still decently attractive! 

Stefanie learned this from Uncle Damon, Lizzie swears, her mom and Stefan are always saying how he shows up when he’s least wanted. 

Connor gives Stefanie a disdained once-over but forces a chuckle. He spreads his arms. “We were just talking, Salvatore, all innocent. Now, you can run off.”

“Hm. You would like that, wouldn’t you?” Stefanie gives him a sarcastically sweet smile. She turns to Lizzie, raising an eyebrow and pointing a thumb at Connor. “Him? Bad idea, cuz. Trust me. He’s not a bad boy, he’s a bad  _ guy _ .”

“I think the lady can decide for herself,” Connor steps in, taking a step forward with a glance at Lizzie. His eyes then dart to the cup in Stefanie’s hand, and he waves his own empty hand at her. “You’re drunk, aren’t you? That’s why you’re spewing all this bullshit.”

Lizzie narrows her eyes at Stefanie, who scoffs in response to him. Shaking her head, Lizzie just sighs and says, “Stefanie, leave us alone, okay? It’s none of your business, and I’ll tell Aunt Bonnie that you were drinking if you don’t just go.”

“It’s fruit punch, dumbasses. And, Lizzie, he’s—”

“I don’t care, Stefanie,” Lizzie cuts her off. She turns to Connor, taking his arm. “Come on. Let’s go somewhere else.”

Connor grins, his eyes glinting. “Read my mind.”

They walk off before Stefanie can get another word in—though she certainly tries. Cousins. 

Honestly, and she thought Josie and Hope were bad enough to be around when she wants to do something that’s even a little bit against the rules. She does not need another person telling her what to do and what not to do, tired of being treated like she’s too fragile to make her own decisions.

She lets Connor lead, saying he knows somewhere quieter that they can talk. They leave the hall. Lizzie catches a glimpse of Hope standing off to the side, looking as awkward as always, standing by herself. Alyssa’s a little down the hall, flashing a smile at a guy who can really only be described as the very definition of tall, dark and handsome.

The rest are spread out somewhere, and some guy winks at them, getting a wink back from Connor, but Lizzie couldn’t care less what they’re doing as Connor guides her down a mostly empty hallway. He doesn’t let go of her hand the entire time, and they both laugh when they quickly stop and act like they’re just talking as a teacher passes them.

“Where are we going?” Lizzie asks in a hushed giggle as they hurry up a flight of stairs.

“ _ Shh _ !” is all Connor says, grinning. “Just wait. It’ll be worth it. Trust me?”

“Hmm, I don’t know, you have a habit of playing dirty,” Lizzie says, smirking. 

Connor’s grin just widens. “I have a feeling you like that.”

Heat flushes up Lizzie’s neck from her stomach, spreading across her cheekbones. She doesn’t say anything. Just lets him lead her up more and more stairs, her heart a butterfly in a cage. 

They finally reach a door at the very top. Connor pushes it open, and they step out onto the roof. A gentle breeze goes past, cooling Lizzie’s overheated skin. Still, she wraps her arms around herself as she takes a few steps forward, looking out at the dark night sky stretched before them. 

“It’s really nice up here,” she says, no longer needing to shout to be heard. Unable to bite back a smile, she asks, “Is that why you brought me here? For the view?”

Connor scoffs. “Yeah, _ Princess _ . For the  _ view _ .”

Lizzie stiffens at the coldness in his voice. No register of the fondness it had held back in the gym hall. She turns to face him, and finds that he’s right behind her. Gone from his face is that charming smile or the softness in his eyes, but replaced with a familiar smirk. 

Her heart drops. The thrill that had been building the entire way up here evaporates. The butterfly between her ribs is just a moth, and it crumbles to nothing more than dust. 

“You were  _ playing _ me?” she mutters, in disbelief, in anger, in self-loathing. She’s able to put the pieces together quickly enough, she’s not an idiot. Although, some part of her is certainly feeling like one.

“And I won,” Connor says, that taunting tone back. “I always do, Forbes.”

Lizzie shakes her head, taking a step back. Disgusted, she says, “And what exactly did you win? Because it sure as hell isn’t me. I’m not some _ prize _ . What, was this some bet?”

“Yeah, pretty much,” Connor admits without a flicker of hesitation or a morsel of guilt or shame. He just shrugs it off like it’s nothing. “But that doesn’t mean we can’t still have some fun, right? It’s only fair.”

He steps closer. Lizzie takes two back. Connor laughs, but stops.

Holding up his hands, he raises an eyebrow at her. “Scared of me all of a sudden?” 

“You’re the one who should be scared,” Lizzie hisses. Admittedly, she’s terrified, but not of Connor. Magic is bubbling under the surface of her skin, burning and zapping her fingertips like an electric shock. Next comes the uncontrollable shaking, she remembers, and then—

Connor walks forward again, dropping his hands back to his sides with a sneer. Lizzie takes another three steps back. She glances over her shoulder and finds the edge of the roof only a stumble away. How did it get so close?!

“Weren’t playing this hard to get a few minutes ago, were you?” Connor says, that smirk that has only been insufferable before now like a wolf baring its teeth. And trust her, she knows what that looks like, only this is somehow much worse. 

“Stop,” Lizzie warns him, flinging a hand out as he goes to take another step forward. Her hand is on fire beneath her skin, magic trying to escape in bursts, only managing to shoot pain through her arms and up into her head. She quickly flings the other out as well. “Connor!”

He just laughs, and walks closer, slow, like a predator after its prey. Lizzie can’t take another step back. Her body won’t let her, forcing her to stay frozen to the spot, heart and magic alike rattling around like hummingbirds inside of her head. 

“Come on, Forbes, I won’t tell anyone that the Perfect Princess isn’t so perfect,” Connor says. But something tells her it isn’t her reputation he wants to ruin. She knows that glint in his eyes. In her own friends, even in her own mom, and Stefan, because that murderous look is hard to disguise. 

Her heart races. He can’t be—?

Lizzie risks another glance over her shoulder. Connor grabs her wrists, rough, and forcing her to look back round at him in alarm. For a fleeting moment, she’s sure he’s going to push her, and she knows spells, sure, but she can’t recall a single one that’ll stop her from dying as soon as she hits the ground. 

But instead of pushing, he moves right in front of her, no space between them. Holding her at that ledge, making it near impossible for her to move either which way. Inches from her face, Connor’s expression is even more inhuman than it had been from a distance. The hunger and greed in his eyes is nothing like that of the supposed monsters she’s around every day. It’s worse, so much worse, and she can tell he isn’t one of  _ them _ , but something isn’t  _ right  _ with him either.

“Come on,” he repeats softly as she struggles to pull away without flinging herself over the edge. Except that seems to be what he's trying to make her do. "You're always bragging about your  _ abilities _ , why not give me a little taste? Prove it. Show me what you can do."

Lizzie squeezes her eyes shut, but not because she's afraid as she feels her foot forced back onto the edge. Not because Connor is literally trying to  _ kill her right now,  _ when she was sure this was going a very different direction. __

"People call you a witch, you know," he taunts, as if she doesn't already know that, as if she doesn't hear the whispers—or in some cases, the shouts. "I wonder, if I were to just—"

He pushes her, his grip on her wrists pushing her chest, and her back bends, but she can't stop her foot from following, only the front of the shoe of her left foot on the edge. If he lets go—

"Would you be able to summon a broom to come and catch you?" 

But because she _ is _ going to show him what she can do, and she won't be able to stop it. Every inch of her, from inside to out, is burning hot, and her magic is swimming in her head, filling her lungs, drowning her as it boils over. 

“Connor, don’t,” she tries, but her mind is scrambling, just as her hands are trying to, reaching for any purchase of guaranteed safety, his sleeve, his jacket, anything. 

Then his face is right there, hissing, “You don’t know my last name, do you? It’s Fell, for the record. But I know all about you—those rumours? Not just rumours, are they? And those little freaks up at that  _ Salvatore _ School with you? They’re all monsters, aren’t they? Vampires? Werewolves? Witches?”

Lizzie doesn’t know how to respond. He knows. Not in any scenario had she imagined that he would know, or that he would be a Fell

She knows the Fells, they’re those kids, kinda quiet, but they’re nothing like Connor, so how

Oh god, he knows all about all of them, everything

He’s going to kill her, because he knows, probably because of his family, and he—

In that split second, when she can’t breathe from it all, her fear boils over into anger. A shock jolts through her entire body.

Connor screams, and she feels him release her. Danger. She quickly pushes forward, and when she opens her eyes, he’s stumbling away from her, staring at his hands in horror. Lizzie’s stomach lurches. But her magic isn’t satiated, and now that she isn't on the brink of death, her anger is rising up like a volcano. A shaking, uncontrollable eruption. 

“What the hell did you do to me?!”

“When someone says stop, you listen,” she spits coldly, her whole body shaking, and her hands fly back up before she can process the words falling from her tongue. 

The spell doesn’t register in her head, but she’s sure the scream is her own this time as the blast hits Connor. He’s dragged off of his feet and through the air, and his body hits the ground just before it goes crashing into the metal door. 

The scream dies in Lizzie’s throat. There’s a ringing in her ears, blocking everything else out. Her chest both has an anvil trying to crush it and yet also feels as if some weight had been lifted. Magic is strange like that. 

It takes a moment for her to focus again. But when she does, she realizes Connor isn’t moving. Her stomach lurches. That breeze is back, except it's cold as ice and seems to be wrapping itself around her skin, and especially her throat. 

Connor gives a halfhearted groan. He rolls himself over, then starts to get to his feet. Lizzie’s sure she should be relieved. She is. But she’s also nauseous. And a little light-headed, and is it just her or is the world still shaking?

Footsteps. So, her hearing’s definitely back then. It doesn’t occur to her to be concerned. 

“You’re a freak, I fucking knew it!” Connor shouts at her, now on his feet, a hand gripping his shoulder. Oh, she’s in trouble if she broke something. “My family was right—you’re such a bitch, Forbes! You’re gonna die for this!”

A curly-headed boy appears from the stairwell. He’s flushed and out of breath, a notebook and a pen gripped in one hand. Lizzie vaguely notes that he’s not dressed for the decade’s theme, but simply wearing a denim jacket over a simple T-shirt and jeans. Like a modern Hobbit.

“Is—Is everything okay?” The boy’s faltering now that he’s seen who’s up here, causing the noise that drew him to the scene. Then he looks at Connor. “The hell happened to you?”

Connor waves his supposedly injured arm at Lizzie. “This freak!”

His palms are bright red and blistered, Lizzie notices. Her skin doesn’t feel so hot anymore. Rather cold, actually, yet sweat’s starting to bead on her forehead. 

“Maybe you should have listened then,” she says dryly. Her voice is faint in her ears, distant. Oh no. No, not now.

Connor scoffs, and he’s moving to step back towards her again, outrage screaming across his face and in his voice as he points at her, saying, “You were the one throwing yourself all over me, you can’t blame me for—”

“Hey, whoa!” The Hobbit looking boy stops Connor, quickly getting in front of him as if Lizzie’s the one who needs protecting. “I think you should go, Connor.”

Lizzie shoots Connor a piercing glare when he looks like he’s going to fight the boy next. All it takes is the slightest shift of her hand, and he pales. Visibly swallowing, Connor backs away from the both of them, stumbling towards the door.

“Watch out, Landon, that girl’s even more of a freak than you are,” he sneers, and then he’s gone from sight.

Good, Lizzie thinks. It’s better that he’s scared of her, she supposes. That’s good. And it’s no different from everyone at her own school anyway. Freak is her title there, too, why not here? Although, she’s sure there’s something bad in there that should seem very important to her. Something she’s going to need to remember, to warn her parents of.

The Hobbit boy—Landon—turns towards her. His eyes are strangely wide, but he starts to push out a breathless laugh, opening his mouth to speak. Then his initial expression of alarm and worry returns in the form of a frown. 

“Hey, are you okay?” he asks, stretching out a hand. He stops short, thinking better of actually touching her. Maybe he’s scared of her, too, she thinks. 

“Am I okay?” she repeats, and Landon nods, his eyebrows furrowing a little deeper.

She considers the question ridiculous, in all honesty. This might just be the furthest from okay she’s ever been. Now that Connor’s out of her sight, the humiliation is starting to sink in. But it doesn’t get the chance to fully hit her.

Stomach lurching again, a shock of pain through her skull, Lizzie squints to try and keep the Hobbit boy whose name she’s already forgotten in focus. But the world insists on blurring around her as she sways gently, her knees starting to dissolve.

“Probably not,” she says, shaking her head. 

Her legs disappear. Backwards is bad, something in her mind reminds her, so she tries to go to the right instead, because the last thing she needs tonight is to  _ die _ . Expecting the impact of the ground, she readies herself for the pain, then her eyes roll up into her head.


	5. The 1930s suck

Josie doesn’t notice Lizzie leave the gym. She barely notices anything other than Penelope, who at this very moment, is dancing with some Timberwolf. The argument outside lasted all the way into the hall, and seems to be evolving into some fruitless attempt at evoking jealousy now. 

It’s petty. Then again, Josie’s always known that was part of who Penelope is. She can be petty. So can Josie, she’ll admit that. But Penelope just can’t seem to help herself around Lizzie, and it’s becoming more and more intolerable, and harder for Josie to just stand back and let them go at each other, especially when it's things like what Penelope said. Lizzie isn’t perfect, and she crosses lines too, and Josie happily defends Penelope then, but in these cases . . . she just doesn’t know how she can anymore.

“Well, now, aren’t you a sad sight?” 

Josie rolls her eyes, but she manages a small smile when she turns and finds Stefanie sliding into a seat at the table she abandoned herself at. 

“Are you even supposed to be here?” Josie asks, furrowing her eyebrows. “You’re, like, two years younger than everyone.”

Stefanie cocks an eyebrow. “Says the girl who doesn’t even go to this school.” Then she shrugs, and kicks her legs up onto the seat between the two of them. “None of the chaperones have kicked me out yet, so I’m just enjoying it while it lasts. Live in the moment and all that! Come on, Jo, you’re the optimistic one, aren’t you?”

Josie makes a noise that’s sad and pathetic even to her own ears. 

Stefanie pouts. “Oh, I don’t like the sound of that. What’s up? Isn’t that your girlfriend over the—” her eyes widen when they fall upon exactly where Penelope is, which would be curling herself around Jed and the Timberwolf girl, “—re, _ wow _ . Or not. Guessing that display of. . . I don’t even know what the hell that is, but I know it’s probably why you look like the saddest person in the 30s right now. Well, aside from her.”

Turning in her seat to follow where Stefanie nods to, Josie finds Hope leaning against the wall a little away from them. She’s looking around like she’s expecting to find someone. Maybe she’s trying to take a more subtle approach to Lizzie’s idea by getting someone to approach her first. She doesn’t make it very easy, with her arms crossed like she’s ready to snap at anyone who does, despite the almost hopeful look in her eyes. 

Josie just turns back around. Looking at Hope only makes her feel worse. Hope might not be standing alone had Josie not. . . well, ruined everything for her. And any chance of her having an actual friend to be talking to right now. 

“Annnnnd never mind, you just beat her,” Stefanie says. 

“I just—” Josie shakes her head “—I guess I just don’t know why I’m even here.”

“Lizzie’s idea?” Stefanie guesses.

Josie nods. Stefanie makes a sympathetic noise, sucking air in through her teeth.

“And for her to ditch you for that douchewad as well.” She shakes her head, taking a drink from her plastic cup as Josie’s eyes snap to her. “Sucky sister move, I’d say. Though, I have no sisters, of course. I did ask my parents why they stopped with me, and my dad was definitely on my side, but my mom just laughed. I think they may be keeping something from me.”

“Uh, yeah, sounds like it.” Josie leans forward. “Lizzie left? With who?”

Stefanie quickly swallows the drink she just took, making a casual gesture with her cup and rolling her eyes. “Ugh, Connor. You’ve probably met him at those games of yours. He’s the most obnoxious and arrogant guy you’ve ever met?”

Connor. Josie vaguely recalls a Connor during their games with Mystic Falls High. And from outside of them, actually. He tends to be the one to start the shouting and jeering of insults at any of them when they pass them in town. 

“And Lizzie left with him?” Josie questions, slightly disbelieving. “She hates him.”

Stefanie shrugs. “That’s how they rope you in, I guess. Or how he does. Things change when you’re under some pretty lights and they’re whispering some pretty words in your ear.”

She’s not wrong. And Connor does fit Lizzie’s typical type. Bad boy. Mysterious. Kind of a jerk. The rivalry part just adds to it, she supposes. It’s like she listened to every talk their mom gave them on not letting the bad boys get in their heads (with a good few digs at Uncle Damon and Hope’s dad), and then decided she wanted to experience all of it.

“Fantastic,” Josie sighs, her chin dropping onto her hand. “So, I’ve been ditched by my twin, and my girlfriend . . . or, ex-girlfriend? She kind of broke up with me just now. And now she is over there dancing with  _ them _ . The 1930s suck.”

Stefanie laughs and tips her cup as if to cheers her. “Well, that I’m sure they did. And, I am sorry about you and your girlfriend. . . or ex-girlfriend. But come on, cheer up, cuz! Go out there and dance with someone! Seems like the rest of your lot has. Hell, I saw Kaleb in there somewhere chatting up  _ Cheryl _ . Boy, am I having fun tonight. Being the younger cousin to you three has never been so good. Well, step in two cases, but still!”

“Glad you’re enjoying yourself,” Josie says dryly, but she smiles, partially meaning it. Someone should be having a good time at this thing. 

“Look.” Stefanie sets her cup on the table, leaving her hands free to gesture around in a way that’s far too much like Uncle Damon for Josie to handle right now. “Why don’t you just go and try to work things out with your girlfriend? Is it really that bad between the two of you?”

“She hates Lizzie,” Josie says glumly.

Stefanie pauses, waiting for more. Eyebrows climbing her forehead, she says, “So, she’s just like everyone else, then.”

“She publicly rejected Lizzie in front of the entire school, and then asked me out.”

Stefanie’s eyebrows remain lifted, but her eyes grow a little this time as well. “Oh. That’s. . . not as common. And, I take it that Lizzie has not recovered from that in a healthy manner?”

“She calls her Satan,” Josie says, and that’s answer enough for Stefanie. Sighing, Josie drops her hand, shaking her head. “It’s not just that, though. They hate each other, but it always just goes one step too far, and Lizzie’s my sister. My twin. And some of the things Penelope says. . . she just crosses the line sometimes.  _ A lot _ of the time.”

Nodding, Stefanie chews her bottom lip. “Yeah, that does sound like it would put a bit of a damper on your relationship.”

“Well, then it’s probably a good thing I don’t have a relationship anymore,” Josie says, though she’s not finding the silver lining. Aside from potentially fewer arguments. That would be nice. Right now, it certainly isn’t, though. “I wonder if the ‘30s were this lonely.”

“I’ll ask my dad,” Stefanie jokes. “The bio one, I mean. I can’t quite remember, but I’m pretty sure my other one was being tortured by a relative of your other step-cousin.”

When Josie can’t muster more than a lame attempt at a chuckle, she nudges her with her foot. 

“Josette Olivia Laughlin-Forbes, I will put a cheering charm on you right this second.”

“Those don’t exist.”

“Tell that to Flitwick. Now,” Stefanie gives her another gentle nudge, “what can I do to cheer you up? Or at least distract you? You wanna put a spell on someone? You can siphon from me! We can. . . I don’t know, make someone hang upside down?”

Josie closes her eyes, laughing quietly. “Stop reading Harry Potter.”

“Hey, if I don’t get to go to the cool magical boarding school then I’m sure as hell gonna read about one!” Stefanie says, but her grin has widened at Josie’s slightly more upbeat response. “Although, Stormy Loch would probably be more fun than Hogwarts.”

“You were offered a place!” Josie argues, her own mouth stretching a little. “But you sat there, crossed your arms, and said you’d burn the whole place down if they tried to make you go!”

Stefanie splutters, waving her hands wildly. “Well, I was five! You can’t hold me to that!”

Josie raises an eyebrow. “That was last year. And the year before that, and the year before that. You say no every time!” she points out, laughing properly now. “If you want to go so badly, why not just accept?”

“Eh, you know,” Stefanie says now, brushing the whole thing off. “It’s cool to read and hear about, but we all know that places like that are just beacons for danger. And I don’t plan on dying because of giant spiders, or centaurs, or—or mass-murdering Dark Lords who would probably manage to recruit me in his evil plot to destroy the world. I’m easily tempted by darkness, what can I say?”

“Oh my god, you are unbelievable,” Josie says, shaking her head.

“Hey, you sounded just like your mom talking to my dad!” Stefanie says, pointing at her with a bright grin that then falters slightly. “And. . . my own mom talking to my dad, actually. Kinda how everyone sounds when they’re around him . . . and me . . .”

Josie widens her eyes mockingly, but her grin is sincere. “I wonder why.”

Stefanie gives a mock gasp in return, but then bursts out laughing, Josie joining her. Admittedly, she does feel a little bit better. Only the tiniest bit. 

“Am I . . . interrupting?”

They both look up at MG, standing next to their table. Well, more fidgeting, really, but that’s pretty normal for him. Still, there’s a nervous glint in his eyes and the way they dart between the two of them, and his sliver of a grin. 

Stefanie waves. “Not at all! The more the merrier! You’re from the Salvatore School as well, right?”

MG gives a jerky nod, and Josie can tell that Stefanie is definitely not helping his nerves. It’s a little funny, if she’s honest, seeing the growing apprehension on his face as he glances at her uncertainly, clearly having no idea who she is while she already knows something about him.

“Witch, Vamp, or Wolf?” Stefanie asks as casually as what he plans on majoring in. 

MG’s eyes widen. He looks at Josie. “Does she—she knows? But she doesn’t go to our school! Does she?!”

Josie, suppressing her smile as best she can, clears her throat and gestures to Stefanie, who gives a little wave of her fingers, crossing her legs at the ankles.

“This is my step-cousin, Stefanie Salvatore-Bennett,” Josie introduces him to her. “She’s a witch. But apparently is too afraid of Voldemort to attend school with us.”

MG doesn’t seem to know how to take that, but he nods all the same, while still eyeing Stefanie like  _ she’s _ Voldemort. “Yeah, I get that. Scary dude.”

“See?” Stefanie points at MG. “I like him! What’s your name?”

“Uh, M-MG?”

“You don’t sound so sure about that,” Stefanie says, narrowing her eyes at him. “What does MG stand for? Is it bad? It’s bad, isn’t it? Mildred Gartholomew? Mordred Gully? Missy Gareth? Oh my god, your parents named you after Marvin Gaye, didn’t they? It’s Marvin Gaye!”

“I—whu—?” MG sputters, at a complete loss for how to respond to Stefanie in general. 

Josie rolls her eyes. “Ignore her. Please. We all do.” 

Stefanie sticks out her tongue at her, but picks her cup back up to finish the last of her drink without another word, coherent  _ or  _ completely nonsensical.

Turning to properly look up at MG, Josie smiles, and asks, “Everything okay? Did you wanna say something?”

MG, shaking off the utter bewilderment that comes with even one interaction with Stefanie, takes a moment to process the question. Then he looks at Josie, and he remembers why he approached them in the first place. 

“Yeah, I. . .” He wets his lips, that nervous edge creeping into his slight chuckle as well, his eyebrows drawing together. “Do you wanna dance?”

Surprised, Josie flounders, saying, “Oh. Well—”

She looks over at Stefanie, who’s nodding vigorously, eyes wide as she hurries to swallow the fruit punch without choking. She isn’t entirely successful, spluttering slightly.

Covering her mouth, Stefanie manages to say, “Yes” —a mild coughing fit, then turns to MG, dropping her hand— “Yes, I’m accepting for her, she would love to. You would love to, wouldn’t you,  _ Josette _ ?”

MG’s smile widens. “Josette?”

Josie shoots Stefanie a wide-eyed glare. Stefanie just plays the innocent back at her, shrugging and holding a hand up.

“Yeah,” Josie sighs, “Josie is short for Josette. It’s one of my mom’s names. I don’t mind, but Josie just sounds better, I think.”

MG shakes his head. “Josette’s nice. But if anyone understands wanting to change your name, it’s me, so, don’t worry, your secret is safe with me.”

Stefanie’s boot gives her a kick in the thigh.

Josie’s exclamation of “ow!” is cut off by Stefanie waving at MG.

“Go! If you don’t dance with him, I will!” She eyes MG curiously. “I might even reconsider that offer about joining your homemade Hogwarts.”

Josie rolls her eyes, but she turns back to MG with a smile matched with one of his own, his nerves a little less now as he raises his eyebrows in silent question. She nods.

“I would love to dance with you, MG,” she accepts.

His smile widens. He holds out a hand to her and Josie shoves Stefanie’s legs off of the chair when she gives a noise halfway between a squeal and a snort. Then she takes MG’s hand and walks with him onto the floor.

He turns to her, still holding her hand, then hesitates for a second, looking uncertain. Josie laughs softly. It’s not hard to tell that he’s even more nervous to actually dance than he was about asking her. 

It’s a slow, kind of melancholy song playing, nearing its end. Still, Josie steps closer and rests a hand on MG’s shoulder. It relaxes him. He grins, and they start to move, matching the gentle pace of the others around them. 

“Thank you,” Josie tells him.

MG draws his eyebrows together, his head giving a little tilt. “For. . . asking you to dance?”

Josie nods. “Yeah. And for, you know, just being. . . you.”

“You’re. . . welcome?” MG says, uncertain, chuckling as he shakes his head. 

“All night, you’ve been on my side,” Josie explains, raising a shoulder in a half-shrug. “Just there for me, trying to make things better. You even told Alyssa to back off when she tried to get in between my and Penelope’s argument. You’re just . . . really sweet.”

“Oh.” She’s flustered him, his mouth opening only to close again, that nervous smile spreading back across his face. “Well. You’ve been really nice to me since I got here. And Lizzie, too. You’ve both made me feel less . . . afraid, I guess. Really, I should be the one thanking you.”

Josie hums in thought. “How about we don’t thank each other? I’ll be here for you, and you’ll be there for me. That’s what friends are for, right?”

MG’s face lights up brighter than the dim, slightly orange hue of the lights around the hall. He nods after a beat, pressing his lips together, trying to hide the fact that he’s smiling so much that his face aches a little. Josie’s does, too.

“Okay, I like that,” MG agrees, straightening up. He holds her a little more surely, a hand on her waist, the other still holding her hand like they’re about to do some waltz. Josie doesn’t mind. 

The music changes, perfectly on beat. The slow, and frankly kind of depressing, song switches up into a much faster beat, and words already belting out, though still with that air of a different decade. Not necessarily the 30’s, but Josie isn’t complaining about the minor error.

MG raises an eyebrow, and for a second, Josie doesn’t understand the silent question he’s asking. But then she gets it, and she nods eagerly. She pushes away from him as he keeps one hold on her—her hand—spinning her around. Laughter that was already bubbling in her throat makes itself heard, and it must be contagious because MG’s laughing right along with her as she spins back into him, and he catches her against his chest, an arm wrapped around her. 

“You’re good at this!” she notes.

MG shrugs, but there’s pride in his grin now as she spins back out of his grasp. She takes his other hand, the two of them dancing right along with everyone else. And strangely enough, for the first time, Josie will admit that she actually feels like a normal teenager. Laughing, dancing with someone, and actually not having such a bad time. 

MG pulls her back in, only to let her spin away again. That soaring feeling of joy sinks as she does. Facing the other side of the hall, through a gap in the crowd of others in their own little bubbles, her eyes just have to find Penelope. Arms wrapped around the Timberwolf girls’ neck, locked in a pretty heated kiss.

That same nauseous feeling from when Penelope said, “I’m done, Jo” before marching off inside of the hall rises back up inside of Josie. She isn’t moving, she registers. And neither is MG, who has spotted the particularly nauseating display of affection as well. 

His other hand gently touches her arm, giving the one still in his grasp a gentle squeeze. 

“I’m sorry, Jo,” he says quietly. 

Josie purses her lips. Her eyes are stinging, but maybe that’s just from how warm the room is, that can happen, right? Allergies, too many people moving, dust everywhere. No. No point being in denial.

“Do you wanna leave?” MG asks.

Inhaling a deep breath through her nose, easing the aching in her chest, she shakes her head. 

“No,” she says, firmly, then is forced to swallow to keep her voice steady. “Uhm. I—I think I just . . . I need a minute.” She turns to MG, so quickly that she surprises him. “Keep dancing with me? Please?”

Caught off guard, MG falters for a moment. But Josie’s gazing at him with wide, pleading eyes that are just a blink away from spilling over with tears, and he doesn’t want that. Doesn’t like the look on her face. So, he nods quickly, and pulls her back in.

It’s more like a hug, really, but Josie takes it. She buries herself in his arms as he sways gently, burying a hand in her hair as she closes her eyes and tries to remember how to breathe. It takes a few moments before she feels able to steadily pull back. 

There are a few tear tracks down her cheeks. But she manages to smile, pushing out a deep breath as she takes MG’s hands in hers again and nods when he gives her a look asking if she’s sure she’s okay. He returns her smile, then follows her lead. She’s aware he’s just doing anything to distract her. And twirling, spinning, and looking outright ridiculous as they dance together and can’t catch breath for laughing is a good way to do it. 


	6. I think I'll stay a little while longer

It’s safe to say that Hope has many regrets about allowing herself to be dragged along to this thing. In retrospect, it had sounded fun but she should have realized that the night was going to be a bust. The only hope she had of it being mildly salvageable is nowhere to be found.

Probably because he told her he doesn’t like to dance, even while dancing with her in the middle of the town square. And he doesn’t seem very popular at this school if Connor and his groupies are anything to go by, so why would Landon want to come to a school dance? She sure wouldn’t. She shouldn’t have. She doesn’t even like the dances that her own school hosts!

And yet, she can’t stop herself from scanning the room. Two people have tried to talk to her, one a girl who definitely snuck in some alcohol from the way she slurred her compliments on Hope’s dress and hair before her friends dragged her off to the bathroom, and the other some jock guy she vaguely recognized from the games their schools play against each other every year. He was nice but lost interest quickly when she said she wasn’t really into dancing. 

Honestly? She doesn’t blame him. Unapproachable is the very definition of what she has made herself. Not on purpose, but it just sort of happened, at the Salvatore school, and even here. It’s fine with her, really, it’s not like she’s missing out on all that much. 

And no one will miss her if she leaves. Sighing, she resigns herself to the fact that she has wasted a good two hours of what could have been a night spent going on a fictional road trip with characters much cooler and more fun than the ones she’s surrounded by at the moment. 

She pushes away from the wall that she’s been hogging since she walked in. There’s a slight ache in her spine as she straightens up. The restlessness definitely hasn’t left her, either, so that’s just great. 

Folding her arms around herself, Hope turns to leave—only for someone to appear right in front of her out of thin air. Startled, it takes a lot of Hope’s learned control to not wolf out or immediately cast an offensive spell at the person. Something she’s glad of when she realizes that person is Kaleb.

Blowing out a breath of relief, she says, a little angrily because her tensions are high and metaphorical hackles are already up as it is tonight, “You know, you really shouldn’t sneak up on someone like that!”

Kaleb widens his eyes in an act of feigned innocence. “Hey, I just walked over here. Maybe you’re just jumpy.”

They both know he didn’t walk but used vamp speed, maybe to intentionally try to give her a fright (he’ll admit, he’s curious about Hope considering all of the rumours surrounding her, and he just wants to see what she’s really like), or maybe just out of habit; new vamps adjust to their abilities a lot quicker these days. But Hope can’t deny that he’s right on that last part. And Kaleb can tell. 

“Dance not doing it for you then?” he asks, inclining his head towards the door that she had just been about to leave through. 

Hope shakes her head. “It’s just not my thing. I came, I tried, I’m not having fun, so now I’m going back to the school. If you’ll excuse me—”

“Did you try?” 

Hope stops. “What?”

Kaleb raises his eyebrows, and gestures around them, to the rest of the hall now. “We’ve been here for at least an hour, and I know I’ve been pretty occupied myself, but every time I’ve looked over here, you’ve been in that exact spot, by yourself. You even turned down Darren when he asked you to dance!”

Staring at Kaleb in confusion, Hope now mirrors his expression, eyebrows climbing her forehead. “ _ Darren? _ ” she repeats. “Do not tell me you sent him over here to ask me for a pity dance!”

“Course not,” Kaleb says, rolling his eyes again. “Dude came up to me, started a conversation, then asked me about you cause he saw us walk in together and wanted to know if I knew you. And if you were single. I said yes. He asked you to dance. And you said  _ no _ .”

Hope deflates slightly, her indignation fizzling out. She crosses her arm and looks away from him, brushing it off with a shrug.

“I just wasn’t interested.”

“Not your type?”

“I don’t have a type.”

Kaleb scoffs, and Hope fixes him with a confused glare.

“Everyone has a type, no use in denying it,” he says. “So. What’s yours, Miss Were-Witch? You’ve been surveying this lot the entire time we’ve been here, you had to have seen  _ someone _ who’s caught your attention?”

That’s just the thing. The one person she was expecting to catch her attention is nowhere to be caught. Meaning the entire night has been pointless, and she’s probably going to get in trouble with Dr. Laughlin for nothing because there’s no way Lizzie isn’t going to find a way to throw her under the bus. 

Her expression betrays her. Kaleb sees right through her.

“Ah.” She looks up at Kaleb, frowning at his knowing tone. “Hoping to see someone? And they’re not here, are they?”

Hope stays quiet. That’s an answer in itself. Kaleb makes a noise of understanding.

Shaking herself out of this momentary distraction Kaleb’s caught her in, Hope waves a hand towards the door, which he is still technically blocking her path to.

“But it doesn’t matter, and I’m leaving, so . . .”

“Are you really gonna let this one person ruin the night for you?” Kaleb asks. 

Hope narrows her eyes at him. “I could make you move, you know.”

Kaleb’s smile slowly stretches from either corner of his mouth and he nods. “I don’t doubt that.”

Sighing, Hope shakes her head, dropping her hands to her sides, and asks, “What do you want from me?”

“Why do you assume I want something?” Kaleb asks with genuine curiosity. 

Shrugging, Hope simply says, “Because that’s how this works. People only approach me and talk to me like this when they want me to do something for them, whether it’s a spell, or to  _ show them what being a tribrid actually means _ , or because they read a book and wanted to know if my dad is really ‘The Great Evil’ and if I’m going to follow in his footsteps and start committing mass murders, which, you know, actually doesn’t sound so unappealing.”

“I mean, I’m not one to advocate murder or anything, because I’m . . . anti-violence and all that, but I can definitely see how that could drive a person to something like that.”

Hope stares at Kaleb again, but she still can _ not _ figure him out. Is he playing her? Wouldn’t be the first time it’s happened. Her mind jumps straight to Roman, and she kind of feels bad for that because they’ve totally made amends since his mom attempted to kill her mom. She’s actually surprised that he wanted her forgiveness when it's his mom who ended up dead because of it all. 

But Kaleb is totally sincere in everything he’s saying to her, even if semi-joking just to bring her back down from the defensive. No one has talked to her without wanting something. Probably because of her surname. It was all well and good when she was under the disguise of “Marshall” but when it came out that she was also the daughter of a Mikaelson, not even just any Mikaelson, but Klaus Mikaelson,  _ the hybrid _ , well . . . things certainly changed. Even new students know to avoid her, so why does Kaleb not follow their lead?

Against every instinct in her body, she can’t quite fight the flicker of a smile. Kaleb doesn’t miss it. His own grows, then he clicks his tongue, and nods, like he’s been caught out. 

“You know what? You’re right,” he says. “I do want something from you.”

And just like that, the smile slips, and so does any possible feeling of hope or anything resembling the sort. She just scoffs, about to push past him and just go back to the school and try to forget that this night ever happened.

Then Kaleb bows and holds out a hand to her. She eyes him in utter confusion, and can’t help but glance away in case anyone is watching them, because she has no idea what is going on right now. 

“A dance,” Kaleb explains simply. “What I want from you is one dance. And then, Miss Were-Witch, you can walk right out of here, and I won’t try and stop you this time.”

Hope is beyond bewildered. There isn’t even a word to express what she’s feeling right now. And Kaleb can see it written all over her face, and  _ yes _ , he is  _ loving _ this.

“A—A dance?” she repeats, incredulous. “You’re asking me to dance with you?”

“Yep, that’s exactly what I’m doing,” Kaleb confirms, hand still out, still positioned in a half bow. He raises an eyebrow. “That’s all I want. So, what’s your answer, Miss Were-Witch?”

Something about his voice makes something stir beneath her skin. Not the familiar irritated, restless itch, though that’s certainly still making itself known. But it’s something else, dusted off by the grin he flashes at her, and the way he’s gazing at her in patient wait for an answer.

_ “Have adventures,”  _ her mom said before she sent her off here on her first day.  _ “Make memories. Have an epic love, or two, or three! Be a dumb kid, rebel, do things that make you happy, and have fun!” _

_ “But not too much,”  _ her dad had chimed in with an alarmed side-glance at her mom, but he was ignored by both her and Hope. 

Hope lets herself smile this time. Nodding, more to herself, she playfully says, “You know my name isn’t actually Miss Were-Witch, right?”

“Yeah, but it’s cute, and I think that’s pretty fitting,” Kaleb replies without missing a beat.

“Oh,” Hope laughs, her eyebrows rising rapidly, “okay. Smooth talker, I see how it is.”

Considering him for a moment, biting her lower lip, Hope rolls her eyes. She takes Kaleb’s hand at last, and he grins, like he knew she would, but is still happy that she did. The thing kept buried in the pit of her stomach pokes its head up in curiosity. She’ll admit to having a little curiosity.

So, she walks with Kaleb, and she dances with him. 

And, to her utter surprise, it’s not at all bad. Not even close. 

It’s thrilling, and he spins her so fast that she feels dizzy, until she can barely breathe from it and from him making her laugh with some dumb jokes and whispered comments about the people around them. And they just . . . don't stop. One dance turns to two, turns to three, and Hope's lost track of how many songs pass by.

And even when they slow down . . . that isn’t so bad, either. Having her back against his chest, his arm and her own wrapped around her, both of them regaining their breath.

“Still wanna leave?” Kaleb asks, his breath tickling the back of her neck and making her hair stand on end. She doesn’t hate it. “Or wishing I was someone else?”

Hope pauses, thinking back to that night in the town square. It was nice. Romantic. And she likes Landon, of course she does. But right now, she can’t imagine having this much fun with someone else. 

“No,” she breathes out, shaking her head. “I think I’ll stay a little while longer.”

She feels Kaleb’s soft chuckle at the nape of her neck, and god, that’s not meant to give her a shiver, right? Not meant to make her stomach tighten, and her breath flutter a little more unevenly. 

Spinning round in his arms abruptly, Hope faces him instead, quickly swallowing and banishing the thoughts. He raises his eyebrows, tongue darting across his bottom lip. 

“I know you only wanted one dance and we've done way more, but . . .” Hope shrugs, “. . . how about just one more?”

“I think that’s a great idea,” Kaleb says, with great emphasis, and they’re already dancing again as the next song comes in.

Hope’s doing everything she can not to smile, because it’s starting to hurt, and no one has made her smile or laugh as much as she has in the last however long it’s been, not recently, at least. It’s hard to focus on anything but Kaleb when he’s right there, with that mischievous grin, his hands never leaving her for too long. And, honestly, it’s hard to remember why she was so ready to go back to the school. Right now, she’s kind of hoping the night lasts a little longer. 

And just when she’s starting to think about when it might come to an end, Kaleb draws her back in. Her hands automatically plant themselves on his chest, a defensive instinct she picked up to keep people at a distance. But now, having her hands on him. 

Feeling his undead heartbeat. Racing, just like hers. 

There has to be some irony, or some joke in there somewhere, or  _ something _ , but her mind is drawing a total blank, because she’s never actually been this close to him before. And she kind of really likes it. 

“Can I ask you a question?” Kaleb asks.

Hope lifts her eyes to him. “Depends. What’s the question?”

Flashing that grin that makes Hope have to swallow again, he says, “This person you were waiting for . . . do you have a thing for them? Like, real feelings, potential relationship type of thing?”

Still slightly breathless and dazed from whatever the hell is going on in her mind and stomach right now, Hope’s confused as to why he’s asking about Landon right now. Then a little bit of sense comes back online inside of her, and she blinks up at him for a moment, then gives a slow shake of her head.

“I . . . I don’t know. I don’t think so? He was sweet, and cute, but . . . I think I’d like to keep him as a friend more than anything,” Hope answers honestly, surprised at how easy it was to come to that conclusion. But it’s true. 

She tilts her head, smiling so much her eyes crinkle at the corners as she furrows her eyebrows. It’s impossible for Kaleb not to notice the slight scrunch of her nose and think it absolutely adorable.

“Why do you ask?” she questions, teasing, as she already has a sneaking suspicion. 

“Because,” Kaleb says, “I wanted to make sure I wasn’t about to break something up or was wrecking something with my next question.”

“Hmm.” Hope bites the inside of her cheek. “And what’s your next question then?”

Kaleb’s heartbeat jumps. They both feel it, are both aware of it. And of how incredibly close they are. For once, Hope can’t say she minds being so close to someone. And Kaleb can’t stop looking at her, and that smile, and the little tilt to her head. His mouth is  _ very _ dry. For a vampire, being nervous seems ridiculous. Yet, here he is.

“Well, my next question was gonna be if I can kiss you,” Kaleb says without a hint of his jumping heartbeat in his voice, all smooth confidence. “Just, you know, because we’re not that close yet, so I figured, you might not wanna jump straight into that kinda thing. Which is cool. We don’t gotta do anything you’re not up for.”

Hope’s eyebrows hike up. She’s doing a pretty stellar job at keeping her own absolute nervous-wreck of a self under wraps and disguised with mysterious confidence as well. Both of them are positive the other can see through them. Neither of them are going to break.

“I do like a guy who can be patient,” she says. This is fast, right? Patience is definitely key in this kind of situation. Except patience also means _ later _ and not right now, and what does she really have to lose? “But I am willing to let one kiss slide.”

Kaleb stops, surprised. Then that slow smile is spreading across his face, his eyes glinting in the lights that almost give everything in the room a faintly red glow. It would be hard to tell who’s a vampire and who’s not in this hall, she thinks.

Then Kaleb leans in, and thoughts of vampires, and lights, and where they are go out of Hope’s mind as she kisses him back. She faintly registers that "All of Me" by John Legend is playing in the background, a song that is definitely not form the 1930s, her hand settling on the side of Kaleb's neck as he holds her close by her waist. 


	7. Did we just discover the secret to fairy tales?

You know how it can be a bit disorienting, waking up when it feels like you haven’t slept at all and can’t figure out if it’s been five minutes or five hours? That’s pretty much how it feels to wake up after passing out from a literal energy drain. 

Colour slowly starts to seep back into the world as Lizzie forces her eyes open. It takes a few blinks before she can actually keep them that way. The pounding in her head doesn’t help much. 

Finding the night sky bearing down on her is even more disorienting. She’s used to passing out every now and then, but usually, she wakes up to the familiar comfort of her bedroom, and Josie or one of her moms by her side, sometimes Jenna or even Elena depending on who’s around. 

Immediately, she tries to shepherd her scrambled thoughts into one coherent pen. 

Night sky. 

Outside. 

Roof. 

Magical outburst. 

Oh god. 

Her stomach leaps up into her throat, then does a somersault back down into her chest. 

Groaning quietly, she closes her eyes again. She would much rather stay unconscious. With the magic drained from her, and the anger taken with it, all that’s left is crippling exhaustion, an even bigger dose of self-loathing than usual, and the crushing humiliation. Yep. She would rather pass out again. Tries to will it into existence.

Instead, she gets a terrified, but ultimately relieved voice heaving out a deep breath and saying, “Oh, thank god, you’re alive. For a second, I—I thought your heartbeat had stopped, and I couldn’t tell if you were breathing or not, but you kept making these little noises, and—but you’re okay! You—you  _ are _ okay, right?”

Okay? Is she okay? Lizzie pushes out a scoff that actually kind of hurts in her chest. 

“No,” she answers mystery person’s question, refusing to look at them. “Please tell me that I’m dead right now. Are you an angel or something? Or a demon? Hell feels more likely, if we’re being totally honest.”

The owner of the voice gives a nervous chuckle. “Uh, no. Afraid I’m neither. Just a regular guy, who just happened to be coming up here for some thinking time when you, uh . . . well . . . you know.”

Fainted. Passed out. Crumpled into a heap of humiliation in front of a complete stranger. Her memories are returning a little faster than she’d like now. Hobbit boy. His name is just out of her reach, but she remembers him getting in between her and Connor. So he’s clearly an idiot. 

Lizzie quickly sits up—a little too quickly, both her and Hobbit boy think, as her head immediately spins on its axis and he gives an alarmed noise. His hands hover near her as if she’s still in danger of falling over some edge or bashing her skull on the concrete again. 

“Whoa, are you sure that’s a good idea?” the Hobbit asks, clear concern in his voice. 

Her eyebrows furrow. As much as her head does hurt, with that annoying little throbbing playing in a loop in her ears, it doesn’t feel concussion level bad. She turns her head to her right and finally looks at Hobbit boy.

“Hold on, I remember falling . . . or collapsing, whatever. Why am I not a pile of broken bones fifty feet below us, or, you know, at least in more pain?” 

Before the Hobbit—Landon, she recalls, though something in her wants to keep referring to him as Hobbit Boy—answers, she finally regains enough of her functions and senses to process some more things. 

Like the fact that Landon is on the ground with her, his knees tucked beneath him, and looking quite chilly, wearing nothing but a T-shirt on his upper half. And that the reason for that probably has to do with the folded up jacket behind her, right where her head had been resting a moment ago and is pleading to go back to, the sudden movement not agreeing with it so well.

The dots are fast-connecting in her mind before Landon has shrugged, awkward and sheepish. He would rather lose the ability to speak right about now than have to explain, because social interaction? Not his thing. And this situation is especially  _ not his thing _ .

“Well, you know . . . I saw you kind of swaying, and then you just went really pale, and I just . . .” he thrusts a hand forward in a gesture that doesn’t clarify anything. “Lunged, I guess?”

“You caught me?” Lizzie asks, raising an eyebrow. 

Landon flushes slightly at her mildly disbelieving tone, interpreting it more as skepticism rather than curious confusion. Taking the defensive, his hands continue their gestures a little more wildly.

“Well, I wasn’t just gonna let you fall off the roof! And, you know, concrete hurts when you hit it, trust me, I’m a good friend of the ground, so I figured you’d probably rather be . . . placed down carefully rather than face-planting on it!”

Lizzie makes an indignant noise—defensive is her instinctual response when feeling cornered, and when you wake up on a rooftop after passing out in front of a strange boy who apparently caught you so you wouldn’t become a pile of broken limbs, it’s pretty fair to feel cornered, she thinks.

But then she looks back at the folded up square of denim, and how he’s positioned right by where she would have been, and how it takes until now for him to actually let his hands drop, finally deeming her safe. And, okay, it’s a little bit hard to see him as much of a threat. 

Then again, hadn’t Connor been whispering exactly what she wanted to hear into her ear moments before turning into more of a beast than any alleged ones she’s forced to read up on in History. 

A breeze blows past, and it’s much colder now, nipping at her skin. She folds her arms around herself, still considering the denim jacket. As mentioned, not the best with social interactions, Landon, once again, misinterprets her expression and the way she curls in on herself. 

“Oh,” he says, as if it makes sense, with sincere _ guilt _ for not _ thinking _ , and he quickly—but in a careful way, the kind of way as if you don’t want to startle a deer—pushes up onto a knee and moves away from her. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to . . .”

He trails off, not finishing.  _ Make her uncomfortable? _ That’s the only guess Lizzie can take at what he was going to say, and Landon would agree it was pretty much what he was going for. He got to the rooftop pretty late, but considering it was Connor, it’s not too hard to fill in some of the blanks and take a stab at what was going on. 

Aside from Connor’s burned hands and apparently injured arm. That is still a bit of a mystery he’s trying to work out, but at the same time, he’s learned some things are better left alone. 

Lizzie spots the conclusion he obviously came to as well. Admittedly, having someone right next to her after Connor  _ literally tried to push her off the roof  _ should have alarmed her, but like she said, she’s used to waking up with someone hovering over her to make sure the outburst of magic didn’t somehow blast itself inward instead and kill her. 

But seeing him move away from her so fast, with that look of not fear of being misunderstood and ending up like Connor, but of concern, what seemed like, for her, and with this gentle sort of understanding, maybe of the kind that’s  _ too _ understanding, but she doesn’t pick up on that. A little something softens inside of her. 

Connor’s sudden sweetness and niceties were for show. For others to see, for a bet. Because he wanted to get her alone, to corner her and expose her for what he (correctly) guessed she is. There’s no one else up here but her and Landon, and considering he stopped her from falling off the roof, she’s not sure she has much to be worried about.

“I’m okay,” she tells him, answering his initial question properly, and softening her tone as well, because, okay, maybe it had been a little on the harsh side before, but in all fairness? 

Landon relaxes somewhat at that. He nods, breathing out a quiet sigh. He still doesn’t seem all that comfortable. But then, they are on a roof. 

“Scared of heights?” she asks, when he glances towards the edge of said roof. It vaguely occurs to her that he must have moved her closer to the door as well as catching her, since the edge is now a good few feet away from what she can hazily recall. 

“What?” Landon glances back over at her, then back to the edge, then up to the sky. “Oh, no. The opposite. I like heights, to be honest. Or, I like this one, at least. Lots of space, the open sky, no walls . . .”

He trails off again, but Lizzie catches the look in his eyes this time, as he gazes around them at the view of the town spread out below them. In all honesty, she’s never found much appealing about it. 

It’s small, it’s overrun with dicks, and literally everyone knows who she is, which would be a good thing, if it weren’t because she is their laughing stock. And sure, it’s nice to look out at the night sky from the towers back home, but she would much rather use that time to be sleeping. The daytime appeals more to her with its dazzling sunshine, able to be basked and soaked in. 

But Landon . . . Landon’s more of a night owl, for lack of a better way to describe. Day time brings nothing but misery in his eyes, with school, dick jocks, and having to avoid being seen by said dick jocks when working his shift at the Grill as a busboy. Night is when he can really think. Can sit on the stairs or path or wall of whatever foster house he’s in at that present time, and look up at the sky, earbuds in and music clearing his mind to let in the flood of worlds where things are better, and he writes them down, as if doing so makes them at least a little bit real, and somewhere he can go when it’s no longer night and there  _ are  _ walls.

Of course, he doesn’t say any of that. Lizzie does clock sight of the notebook and pen laying discarded near them, but she doesn’t say anything as Landon quickly snaps back from wherever his thoughts were straying to, and he makes a noise like a half nervous chuckle.

“Uh, are you?” he asks, because it seems like they’re making casual conversation now. Small talk. The bane of Lizzie’s existence.

And yet, when Landon adds, “Scared of heights?” she smiles, and gives a polite shake of her head, saying, “Not really.”

She says it while looking away from him, so really, she isn’t expecting the conversation to continue much further beyond that, unless it’s to say, “Well, I’m going to go now!” or some other desperate attempt to leave her company.

Except . . . he stayed until she woke up. 

“Hey, how long was I out?” she asks, a shot of panic only just zipping through her now. Did the others leave without her? Is the dance over? Is she going to be grounded for two months because Josie couldn’t find her and, in a state of panic and despair, went back home and spilled everything to their moms?

Landon looks back over at her. “Oh, uh . . . about, maybe, ten minutes, I think?”

“Ten minutes?” Lizzie repeats. “ _ Ten minutes _ ?”

Translating her disbelief at being such a short amount of time (compared to the few magical pass-outs where it took nearly a day for her to revive back to consciousness) as disbelief aimed directly at him, Landon quickly says, “I was going to call 911! Or—or get one of the teachers, but I was worried about leaving you, and my battery’s dead, and the door up here can be a bit tricky, so sometimes it closes over and you can’t get it back open!”

Lizzie can’t help but smile, letting it grow as he babbles on, until she’s finally able to say, “Thank you.”

Landon stops. His lips had still been parted to continue his string of reasons on why he let her stay passed out for so long without actually doing anything about it when she could have been in serious danger. A smile and thanks was not what he was expecting. Far from it.

“For—for what?” he asks, uncertain. 

“Well, firstly for not letting me plummet to my death outside of this trash heap of a High School,” Lizzie says, finally starting to feel a little bit of her energy return. And it draws a smile out of Landon, even if she then has to interrupt what was going to be him brushing that action off as nothing. 

“And for that” —she gestures to his jacket— “and, you know, there’s a dance going on below us, which I’m sure would have been much more appealing than staying up here, sitting with my unconscious body. And for waiting those ten minutes to make sure I was okay.”

Landon, stunned and frankly a little bewildered by the turn-around in the situation, fumbles for something to say in response. He kind of resembles an odd bird when he’s confused. Lizzie can’t for the life of her remember the name of any birds, but she knows there’s one that definitely looks how he does right now. But with less curls and less-hobbity, of course. It’s kind of cute.

He ends up landing on, “No problem?”

Lizzie raises an eyebrow.

“Uh, I mean, you’re welcome! No, wait! I mean, I didn’t mind—”

“You’re not really versed in this whole talking to other people thing, huh?”

Landon flushes. He ducks his head, clearing his throat. “No, not really, I guess."

“Come on,” Lizzie says. “We’re on a roof! And, you gave me your jacket to lie on, so you must be freezing, so you had to have minded at least a little bit! I can imagine that spending even ten minutes worrying if a stranger’s about to die in front of you is not the fun way you planned on spending tonight.”

“Honestly?” Landon’s shoulders deflate, and he blows out a breath. “I’m kind of glad, actually. Not that this happened, obviously! That was the most terrifying ten minutes of my life, and I imagine it wasn’t much more fun for you. But . . . I would much rather be up here than at the dance. Hence why I . . . you know, was coming up here and not staying down there  _ at the dance _ .”

“Oh.” Lizzie faintly thinks about how well he would get along with Josie. Socially awkward, would rather be anywhere but at a dance, weirdly kind to strangers. Maybe she should introduce them, and not just because she thinks it could potentially infuriate Satan. “Dances aren’t your thing, then, huh?”

Landon makes a noise that definitely means they are one-hundred-percent not. He relaxes properly for the first time, unfurling his knees to cross them instead. Not entirely sure why, but Lizzie finds herself mirroring him in a way, making herself more comfortable, her dress piling around her in layers of velvety green that is looking a little grubbier at the edges of the bottom. 

Now that she knows she has little to worry about in the chances of everyone else having already left, there’s no rush to be going back down there. It would also mean facing Connor, and his friends who set him up to this in the first place, and she has no idea what he may have said or if they even knew about her being a witch or if that was all him . . . oh god. Connor’s a  _ Fell _ . And he  _ knows _ . Yeah, she is definitely in no rush to face him again.

And if not him, then at the very least, she’d have to face her own . . . well. They’re not really friends, are they? And Josie’s probably furious at her for leaving her outside, and for starting another fight with Penelope. 

She’s  _ definitely  _ not in a rush to face any of that.

“I don’t mind dancing, I guess, that’s not a problem,” Landon says, shaking his head. “But these things are a nightmare. Literally. The last one—1860s themed?? It still haunts me sometimes.”

“That bad?” 

“Well, the dance itself would probably have been fine,” Landon admits, “just, you know, the part that kind of ruined the rest of the night for me was the fact that there were other people there. Mainly: that fine gentleman that you have also had the displeasure of meeting.”

Lizzie makes a noise of disgust. “Yes. Him. I can see how he’d ruin a perfectly good dance. Actually, he could probably ruin a funeral.”

Landon gives a little snort of laughter, ducking his head again, and Lizzie smiles a little along with him. It’s a surprise even to her. Strange mystery boys are bad. Her mom warned her of that, so many times, and tonight was just more proof of that. 

And yet, she isn’t satisfied with letting their conversation drop, so she waves a hand at him, and says, “Is that why you’re not dressed up for the decade?”

“Oh,” Landon glances down at himself, “uh, sort of. I also just . . . don’t really own anything that would go with the theme. I don’t own a whole lot generally. Perk of foster homes?”

Lizzie’s stomach clenches and even she can tell that she may have stepped over a line. But foster homes. The way he says the words shows no love for the system or being a part of it, and that thought just makes Lizzie’s heart sad. 

“That sounds . . .” what can Lizzie even say that won’t sound insensitive? Usually, the things she thinks are appropriate to say never are, and for some reason, she doesn’t want to make that mistake with this boy who just, well, kind of saved her in a way. 

She could have killed Connor if Landon hadn’t been there. Or maybe Connor would have killed her. Either way, she’s grateful that Landon showed up when he did. Sort of like a Hobbit in shining denim.

“You can say it,” Landon says, with this look, because he’s heard it all before. “Pathetic? ‘Aren’t foster homes for the unwanted kids?’ ‘You should be grateful to even have people who want you.’ ‘Foster home kids are freaks!’ I suppose I can’t really argue with that last one.”

The knife certainly gives a great twist at that.

“I was going to say it sounds lonely . . .” she says in a small voice. Because it does. And he looks so utterly lost and lonely as well, and . . . in some way, she gets it. Because that look is exactly how she feels a lot of the time.

Landon looks up at her in surprise; he had been avoiding her gaze, undoing his shoelace on a pair of slightly tattered sneakers, then doing it back up again, with maybe too many knots. 

“Oh,” Landon says. He’s not sure how to respond to that. Laughing or taunting or irritating pity is usually the response he gets when informing people that he’s in a foster home. Not . . . understanding. “Well, uh . . . Yeah, yeah, I guess it can be. You know, not all of the parents are all that great.”

Lizzie’s eyes catch his hand shifting ever so slightly. Fingers lightly running over his forearm, that she’s noticing now is littered with patches of skin slightly darker than the rest of the tanned skin of his arm, all in the shape of small circles. Burns.

Her chest tightens, but she pretends not to notice, because Landon doesn’t say anything about it, and so she decides he must not want to talk about it. He just clears his throat again, looking back up at her with a small smile.

“But the one I’m in the now isn’t so bad. I have a foster brother there as well. Rafael. He’s so great. Maria and Hector—our foster parents—are . . . questionable. But me and Rafi, we stick together, so it’s not so bad.”

“That sounds really nice,” Lizzie says, sincere, and her smile back at him is as well.

“Yeah,” Landon says, but a dark shadow passes through his eyes and she can sense something else is on his mind. A beat later, and he shares it, to her surprise. “We might be moving soon. Hector and Maria said they like the look of Atlanta. I don’t see the appeal, personally.”

Outrage for Landon flares in Lizzie at the bitterness in his voice, and honestly, maybe a little bit of sadness. Clearly he doesn’t want to go, so why would they force him? Her mom has never forced her or Josie to go with her when she’s out recruiting students for the school. Although, she supposes, it’s not all entirely the same. 

“Atlanta could be . . . fun?” she tries, in the hopes of making him feel better. But Landon’s disbelieving look throws that plan into a ditch, and she wrinkles her nose. “Yeah, no, Atlanta sucks. They shouldn’t move you! What does Atlanta have that Mystic Falls doesn’t?”

There’s a beat of silence as they both look at each other, and they both just know that there are many appealing things to Atlanta when compared with this small town in the middle of nowhere in Virginia with a history so bloody and dreary it would scare anyone off. 

She can sort of see why Atlanta would appeal more, and unfortunately, so can Landon. Doesn’t mean he likes the idea of having to start a whole new school yet again. Just more bullies he hasn’t had the displeasure of meeting yet. 

Lizzie can’t even imagine having to move to another school. The Salvatore Boarding School is her  _ home _ . Even attending Mystic Falls High would feel like some nightmare and alternate reality. Not her life. 

But Landon’s never really had that attachment, she realizes. No real home. No feeling of belonging. And in a way, she almost feels like she understands. Maybe not about being moved around constantly, or having to adjust to new places and new people all the time, or the feeling of abandonment that comes with it. But the not belonging. Like you’re an outsider. That, she can understand. 

“You wouldn’t happen to secretly be a witch or something, would you?” Lizzie jokes. If only he could attend the Salvatore School. Then he wouldn’t have to move, and he could be happy, staying in the town that she doesn’t really understand his liking for, but can tell it’s important to him in some way. 

Landon laughs, his eyebrows furrowing as he gives a little head tilt like a confused puppy. Oh, that’s actually cute. Why is that cute? She shouldn’t find that cute. Or she should, but she shouldn’t  _ like it _ , she doesn’t do  _ cute _ ! She does tall, strong jawlines, jock-types! Or at least someone who has some air of dangerous mystery! Not adorable Hobbits with curls and bright green eyes and a smile that makes her heart do this little flipping thing—

Oh,  _ no _ .

“Um, no, I don’t—I don’t think so?” he replies. “Though, that would be super cool.”

Lizzie won’t admit it, not out loud, but something lights up inside of her when he says that. At this point, she’s ignoring anything she is feeling that is caused by this boy, because otherwise that is dangerous territory. “Really? You think so? Have you . . . ever heard of a kind of witch called a Siphoner?”

Landon shakes his head, but he lifts his head, dropping it onto his knee with curiosity. “No, I can’t say I have. What can they do?”

“Well, it’s pretty much all in the name,” Lizzie starts explaining, excitement bubbling up inside of her. Her magic is drained, thankfully, so it’s definitely excitement. “They don’t have proper magic of their own, but they have this ability to siphon magic from things that do. Say . . . they’re standing next to a vampire, for example. If a Siphoner were to reach out and touch them, they would be able to harness some magic from their supernatural DNA, and then use it like an ordinary witch.”

Landon isn’t even pretending to listen—his interest is piqued, attention raptly focused on every word she says, his eyes wide, and he nods along, putting together her explanation. 

“So, they can just siphon magic out of anything that has it by touching them?” Landon questions. “Like, vampires, werewolves, witches, inanimate objects?”

She nods eagerly, thrilled that he’s actually interested. “Yeah! It doesn’t even have to be through contact with their hand, it can be through their feet, or any part of them that’s touching the thing that contains the magic.”

“Wait, so, like, Snow White’s prince could have been a siphoner, and when he kissed her, it wasn’t true love’s kiss that woke her up, but him actually siphoning the poisoned apple’s curse out of her _ through _ the kiss? Or, you know, same thing with Sleeping Beauty?”

Lizzie’s eyes widen. “Oh my god.”

Landon’s eyes are just as wide, and their grins equally stretched. 

“Did we just discover the secret to fairy tales?” Lizzie says. 

“I think we did.”

“No surprise, since Hobbits are historically known for being good at discovering things.”

Landon does that little head tilt thing again, and why does he have to do that? It makes the curls do this little bounce, and his eyebrows furrowing and his smile scrunches slightly in this confused little expression that only makes her realize how unfairly long his eyelashes are, and those are some really bright green eyes,  _ wow _ .

“Did you just call me a Hobbit?”

Lizzie shrugs, her smile growing. “I did . . . I think I also accidentally called myself one as well.”

“Who would that make you then? Galadriel?” Landon asks. 

Lizzie scoffs. “Please, Galadriel isn’t even a Hobbit. I’m clearly your Samwise! You wouldn’t have known about the crucial detail to figure out the secret had I not given you the information.”

Landon gives her this look. He’s never talked to someone like this before, aside from Rafael, who, to be fair, is quite clearly only humouring him when he listens to him gabble on about Star Wars, Lord of the Rings, or pretty much anything of the kind, smiling and nodding along or just outright telling him he has no idea what he’s on about. 

But Lizzie, Lizzie isn’t just listening and smiling and nodding along, or even rolling her eyes in a mocking sort of way that a few of the girls at school tend to when he’s tried to start up a conversation after they mention something about something he’s also very interested in. Lizzie started this conversation, and she’s fully invested. 

“Yeah, but Sam was more his moral support on the journey,” Landon points out, “he wasn’t really the one with the information, was he?”

“Excuse you? Sam was way more than moral support,” Lizzie says. “He wore that ring, too! And he was there for Frodo for as much of the journey as he could be, even if he was afraid! He was there for Frodo because he loved him.”

“Well, yeah, I’m not denying that they were the subtextual romance of the novels and especially the movies,” Landon says.

“Exactly!” 

Lizzie pauses. They both do. They’re both aware that Lizzie’s claim to the title of being Landon’s Sam combined with her agreement on Frodo and Sam is . . . slightly awkward. And yeah, Lizzie’s feeling a bit of heat creeping up her neck as they both take it in, letting it process for a moment. 

But in all honesty, she’s never had a conversation like this. Josie doesn’t know she’s a closet nerd for all things fantasy and sci-fi and superheroes. No one does, that’s kind of the point, aside from maybe MG, because she once asked him, in the dark corner of the halls, to borrow a comic she saw him reading because it’s the newest one in The Flash collection and she hasn’t been able to get her hands on it yet. But aside from him . . . 

Clearing his throat for the third time, Landon pops the bubble of awkwardness with a light chuckle that has Lizzie joining him for reasons beyond her understanding. He’s back to relacing his shoe, ducking his head.

Lizzie’s eyes linger on him for a moment, curious. How is it, she wonders, that she’s never seen him around? He may not have lived in Mystic Falls for long, but clearly a year at the very least, and long enough to know the school (and the dicks within it) fairly well. Something about him is faintly familiar, but not enough for her to say where she may have seen him before, probably just a passing through town, neither of them paying attention to the other.

“So,” Landon starts again, and Lizzie blinks and quickly looks down at her dress, then flicks her eyes back up to him to give the impression that she hadn’t been staring, “these Siphoners, their magic comes from touching people?” 

“Yeah, like I said, as long as the thing or person has some sort of magic in them or it, then yeah,” Lizzie confirms. “Sometimes it takes some concentration, but usually it’s just a normal touch. Like this—”

She only reaches out as an example, so that he could one-hundred percent understand what she meant, and there would be no misunderstanding beyond that. When she touches his arm, her heart skips. But nothing else happens. 

I mean, of course nothing else happens, she wasn’t  _ trying _ to siphon from him. But usually there’s a tingle, or the sense of the tiniest trace of magic being drawn up through the person’s veins to find her hand like a magnetic pull. Even humans have a trace of magic—it’s not as powerful, and it certainly is not enough for even the measliest of spells, but usually there’s something! But . . . when she touches Landon, there’s nothing. Not a trace. 

She doesn’t realize she’s frowning until Landon’s got that confused smile back on his face and he jokingly asks, “What’s wrong? Not getting any magic from me?”

_ Exactly _ , Lizzie thinks, but she smiles back, laughing lightly. She pulls her hand away, a strange feeling inside of her. 

“No, just thinking you’re absolutely freezing and yet haven’t shivered once,” she says, not entirely lying. His skin was just about as cold as she’s sure her own is, courtesy of the breeze that’s picked up around them.

“Oh yeah, I’ve sort of learned to adapt to the cold,” Landon says, and something about that makes her sad. But he shrugs it off with concern for her instead, finally noticing her bare arms tucked beneath each other, her body curled up as far as she can get beneath her dress. “Did you bring a jacket?”

He glances around the rooftop, thinking he may have missed it in his state of alarm to get her safely away from the edge of the roof and trying to figure out if she was, you know, okay. 

But Lizzie shakes her head. “No. Silly me thought that I was going to be in a building with heating for most of the night, and wouldn’t require a jacket, or even some 30s appropriate cardigan, shawl, whatever. I did not anticipate a roof that is, quite frankly, freezing, at any point in the night.”

Landon’s expression darkens. Neither of them mention Connor’s name, or him luring her up here, or what went on leading up to Lizzie passing out. Landon actually wants to go and pick a fight with Connor, even though he’s well aware he would more than likely lose, but for the first time, the thought of that or the inevitable pain he would be caused doesn’t really matter to him.

But he doesn’t. Instead, he glances back at his own jacket, then reaches for it, shakes it out, and offers it to her wordlessly. Lizzie looks from it to him for a moment of confusion—and frankly, surprise, because is he actually offering her his jacket?!—and then frantically shakes her head, holding up a hand.

“No, you have already done more than enough for me,” she protests. “And you are just as cold as I am. You put it back on, I’ve hogged it for way too long already tonight.”

Landon rolls his eyes. “Maybe you should be Frodo, with this selflessness.”

Lizzie’s in too much shock to protest again when he leans closer to carefully settle the jacket over her shoulders, while ensuring he doesn’t get too close or accidentally touch her. No one has ever called her selfless before. That is one word that no one would ever even consider putting in the same sentence as her name. 

“I know it’s not exactly much warmer or anything . . .” Landon says.

Snapping back, and taking in the way Landon’s looking away from her again, as if almost embarrassed. She smiles, shakes her head, and now pulls the jacket around her, hugging it closed around her front. 

“It’s perfect,” she says, and really, it does make her feel a little warmer as Landon smiles back at her, his eyes lighting up. She likes that look on his face for some reason. And she can’t get his words out of her head: selflessness. 

If he really knew her, then he wouldn’t be so quick to say that. Then again, she kind of likes that he doesn’t know that side of her. Only knows this side of her. A good side, apparently. He can actually see good in her. And she doesn’t know it, but he’s curious about her, wants to know more, if she’ll keep talking with him. 

“Do you wanna go back inside?” he asks her, offering her an out, an end to the night. At least for the two of them.

But Lizzie likes that he’s looking at her the way that he is right now. So different from the looks from the kids back home, and from the stares and taunts of the rest of Mystic Falls High’s residents. And maybe she’s not ready for that to be gone quite so soon.

She shakes her head, her smile growing. “Not yet. I think I’m starting to appreciate what you see in the view up here a bit more. Just another ten minutes or something.”

Landon nods, happily agreeing, and settles back against the wall as Lizzie does the same. For someone so awkward (in the adorable, geeky, Hobbit sort of way), he finds things to keep the conversation going and going with great ease, and Lizzie really doesn’t mind that she’s just sitting here, under the night sky rather than sleeping or even dancing.


	8. I'm happy as I am

To Josie’s utter surprise, they make it to the actual end of the dance without being spotted as outsiders. They do receive a few funny looks, a few knowing ones, but no one actually says anything, and none of the chaperones seems to notice that they aren’t supposed to be there, so they’re left alone. 

But it’s officially time for everyone to go home. Josie can’t believe it’s nearly midnight, and also  _ why the hell did the school allow the dance to go on until midnight?! _

Although, she’s not really complaining. It was _ fun _ ! Aside from the start of it, and the first hour or so, and the fact that she is now officially single. As they start to stream out of the hall, she catches sight of Penelope hanging off of Jed, his arm around her waist. There’s a boiling lurch in her stomach. She grits her teeth, forces herself to look away before she can do something she’ll regret, and reminds herself that it’s for the best anyway.

Josie and MG eventually find their way outside as well, but they hover around near the parking lot, as Josie figures they should wait for the rest of their friends. They’re already about to surpass any possible curfew implemented, so might as well face the consequences of it as a group. “Stronger in numbers, right?” MG says, trying to laugh off his own anxieties about what they’re going to walk back into or have to deal with in the morning.

It doesn’t take long before Alyssa comes strolling out. She doesn’t even look at them as she pauses outside of the school, just a few feet away from them. Her attention is completely occupied by the guy who stops with her, and, yeah, okay, Josie can get why.

Tall, dark skin, handsome, and even in the dark Josie can tell he has really pretty eyes. And when he flashes Alyssa a smile— _ wow _ . Alyssa smiles back sweetly, far more sincerely than Josie thinks she has ever seen on that girl, then watches her say something to him before finally turning to them and marching right over. 

“No goodbye kiss?” Josie asks, genuinely curious, because she saw the guy, and the way Alyssa looked at him? There’s no way she didn’t want to go for it, and Alyssa usually does whatever Alyssa wants.

“No,” Alyssa says. “Just friends.”

That’s even more suspicious. Jed’s Alyssa’s closest friend and they’re not even technically classified as “just friends” but hey, Josie and Alyssa are barely acquaintances, so she’s not going to push. MG doesn’t even want to bother; he’s not afraid to admit that she scares him.

“What are we waiting for?” Alyssa asks, when she realizes that they aren’t going anywhere.

MG waves a hand towards the school. “The others?”

Alyssa’s mildly displeased by this answer and shows it, but she crosses her arms and waits with them all the same rather than stalking away on her own. Even she knows it’ll be better if they go back as a group, discuss their explanation first if they get caught. Or she could just throw them under the bus. It wouldn’t bother her.

But, thankfully, it doesn’t take more than two minutes for Hope and Kaleb to appear, notice them, and join them. Josie’s eyebrows furrow the slightest bit at Kaleb’s arm thrown around Hope’s shoulders. Weird, since Hope isn’t exactly the touchy-feely type as far as she is aware. And yet, she’s perfectly fine with it and doesn’t say a word about it. 

There’s this glow in her eyes as well. Brighter than what Josie’s used to. She actually looks . . . happy?

And Hope _ is  _ happy. Exhilarated, actually. That might just be the most fun she’s had in a long time, and it was great, and that restless itch? It’s gone. Eased for the night, and hopefully a little while. 

MG and Kaleb do a little nod of acknowledgement to each other, and Hope even smiles at Josie, which is alarming, if anything. 

“Good night?” Kaleb asks the lot of them, with a grin that says his clearly was.

“Definitely,” Alyssa answers, with that same smile she gave handsome stranger boy, a faraway sort of glint in her eyes. Just friends may not last so long, Josie thinks. 

MG glances at Josie before answering. He hesitates a moment, but when Josie smiles back at him, his face breaks into a grin, and he nods, answering all while his eyes stay locked with Josie’s.

“Yeah, yeah, it was okay, I think,” he says, and turns back to Kaleb, who winks when he shrugs and adds, “Not bad.”

Josie just doesn’t really say anything. Her shrug is definitely more half-hearted than MG’s because it’s hard to say she had a good night when her girlfriend just broke up with her, but seeing Stefanie was nice, and dancing with MG was fun. It wasn’t a total waste of time, and she’s sure that there are some moments that could qualify as “pretty good.”

No one presses her for an actual answer. Alyssa just lets out this long sigh, turns to face them, and says, “So? Are we good to go then?”

Josie looks around, and Hope and MG are already doing the same. 

“Where’s Lizzie?” Hope asks, her forehead creasing slightly.

“Who cares?” Alyssa shoots back.

If she’s expecting agreement—which she sort of was—it doesn’t come. 

“Maybe she’s still inside?” MG suggests, but he’s concerned as well now, finding no sight of her around the school grounds.

“I’m gonna go look,” Josie says. 

She goes to break away from the group when Kaleb says, “Wait! I think I can hear her voice, gimme a sec.”

Josie turns back to him, his expression one of concentration, and one that’s quickly mirrored on MG’s face as he picks up on the same thing.

“Roof,” Kaleb declares. “She’s on the roof.”

Josie’s eyes widen in alarm at that, and Hope’s have as well. 

“The roof?!” Hope repeats, as they all quickly glance up towards it, even Alyssa, who looks somewhat more concerned than she did before. 

“Last Stefanie told me, she was with Connor,” Josie says, and every bad thought runs through her mind at once.

“Connor  _ Fell _ ?” Hope asks in disbelief, but Josie knows it’s not because she can’t believe Lizzie would hang around with one of their sports rivals. The way she says his surname strikes a bad chord inside of Josie. 

Kaleb nods. “I can hear a dude’s voice as well.”

“The Fell’s know about us!” Hope quickly elaborates. “Jenna told me, it was complicated, but their family knows about the supernatural and have suspected that our school is just a way to keep us disguised in town! Josie, if Lizzie’s with Connor, he might—”

Josie doesn’t need to hear another word. Making her decision, she starts towards the doors of the school again, heart leaping into her throat now at the very idea of Lizzie, plus roof, plus  _ Connor _ . Whatever is going on, it’s not good.

But once again, Kaleb stops her. “Hey, I’ve got a quicker way if you wanna get up there!”

Confused, but also urgently wanting to get to Lizzie, Josie spins back around, marches back over to him, and nods for him to show her the way. 

Instead of leading her to some secret stairwell, he says, “Hold on to me. Might wanna close your eyes.” Then to Hope, “Just for quickness,” as if he’s explaining himself to her. Whatever he’s talking about, she seems to get it, and even waves urgently at him.

Josie, in no way reassured, does as she’s instructed anyway. She holds on to his arm. And then Kaleb leaps, with no warning, and Josie leaves her stomach and heart behind on the ground. 

There’s a solid surface beneath her feet in an instant, though her legs don’t seem to register that. Quickly orientating herself with a couple of blinks, Josie processes that they are now very much on the roof of Mystic Falls High.

Ignoring the nauseating sensation building its way up the back of her throat, Josie quickly looks around in search of Lizzie and Connor. Except . . . there’s no one here. 

Just as Kaleb points forward, two voices start laughing. One familiar, one not. Aware she’s probably about to regret this, but knows that her main priority is Lizzie, she moves forward, past the open door leading down into the stairwell, and around the other corner. 

The sight beholding her is not the one she was expecting. Lizzie, wrapped in an unfamiliar denim jacket, sitting on the ground beside some curly-haired boy that Josie doesn’t know at first glance, then recognizes as one of the workers at the Mystic Grill. L-something. 

L-something is the one to spot her—and Kaleb, who followed at a few paces behind, feeling his presence unnecessary. His laughter fades, and he immediately turns suspicious, and it’s like she can see literal shields go up behind his eyes. 

Then Lizzie turns to follow his line of sight, and her face lights up with surprise, but a smile.

“Jo! And . . . Kaleb? What are you two doing up here?” she asks, brow crumpling in confusion. “Shouldn’t you two be down at the dance?”

“Lizzie, the dance is over,” Josie informs her.

Her eyes widen. “Really? Oh.  _ Oh _ —”

Josie nods frantically along with Lizzie’s alarmed realization. Lizzie turns to face the curly-haired boy as she quickly sheds the jacket, which, presumably is his by the way she hands it back to him.

“I’m so sorry, I need to go,” she tells him, and she actually does sound  _ sorry _ . And, Josie’s confused, because this definitely isn’t Connor. “It’s been really nice talking to you, Landon!”

Landon just stares at her as she scrambles to her feet, his mouth opening and closing, at a slight loss for words in the midst of the abrupt emergency. He just clutches his jacket and gives a slight shake of his head.

“You too!” he says, following her lead as he gets to his feet. “Can I at least . . . walk you back down?” His eyes dart to Josie and Kaleb. “If that’s okay?”

Lizzie glances at them too, and she can sense that they’re both trying to silently communicate for her to turn him down. Her hesitation is surprising to everyone except Landon. Rejection is her thing, she adores rejecting people!

But when she finally turns to Landon, shaking her head, her voice is genuinely apologetic as she says, “Sorry, I can’t. You go on ahead.”

He’s confused, and honestly, wants to question her further. After all, they’re all going down the same way, aren’t they? But it’s made clear that the three of them have some private matter, and so he doesn’t press it.

Instead, he nods. “Yeah, okay.”

As he goes to walk away, Lizzie quickly shouts, “Wait! Uh, thank you! For tonight.”

Landon, turned back to her, smiles. “I should be thanking you.” He glances again at Josie and Kaleb, nods once to the two of them, then his eyes are back on Lizzie. “Maybe I’ll . . . see you again?”

“Find me in the forest, Frodo,” Lizzie says, with this same smile that everyone seems to be wearing tonight, and Josie is at an utter loss for an explanation. 

Landon’s smile widens, like she really has just made his night.

With another nod, he says, “Of course. You can count on me, Snow.”

And then he’s turning and walking down the stairwell, out of sight. Josie swears she hears Lizzie muttering, “I hope so,” under her breath, but she can’t be sure, and she doesn’t look at Kaleb to confirm. 

Lizzie allows Kaleb to bring them all safely back to the ground. Without much explanation, they all hurry the rest of them to move, quickly heading for the school, mainly so that Landon doesn’t walk out the doors and see them all standing there and question how the hell they beat him down.

They mostly walk in silence back up to the school. Penelope’s long gone with Jed, probably already back by now. Alyssa walks a little ahead of the lot of them, with Hope and Kaleb close behind, the two of them almost walking in sync, MG just behind them, and Josie and Lizzie bringing up the end a few paces away. 

There’s definitely something up with Hope and Kaleb. The little looks they keep exchanging, the accidental bumping into each other, hands brushing. It’s so unusual for Hope that even Lizzie picks up on it, a look of disgust on her face as she watches them.

“What is that? Are they . . . ?”

Josie shrugs, and whispers back, “I have no idea? I think I saw them dancing together, but other than that, I’m not sure. They do seem pretty—”

“Gross? Sickening?” Lizzie suggests.

Josie rolls her eyes. “Happy.”

Lizzie shrugs, as if to say it’s the same thing, which, really, in her eyes, it may as well be. Except, when she looks at them again, and see the two of them share this weird little secretive glance at each other, it’s almost cute. 

“Are you _ smiling  _ at them?” Josie asks in disbelief, grinning herself. 

Immediately fixing her face, Lizzie scoffs. “No! I was just . . . smiling generally, what, can’t a person smile anymore?”

Josie nods. They continue walking in silence for a moment.

“Were you smiling because of Landon then?” Josie asks quietly.

Silence. Josie’s eyebrows raise sky-high and her head snaps around to stare at Lizzie so fast that Lizzie rolls her eyes at her this time and caves.

“He’s cute, okay! And . . . sweet.”

“Doesn’t sound like your type,” Josie says, eyebrows furrowing. She’s almost teasing, mostly serious.

Lizzie shrugs, looking at the ground as they walk on. “That’s why I like him.”

“Oh my god. You like him?!”

“Shut up!”

Josie laughs, and Lizzie’s smile returns against her will, drawing the attention of Hope and MG. Knowing Lizzie will spill all the details either tonight when they’re back in the safety of their room, or tomorrow, Josie lets it go for now. She doesn’t even want to think about what Hope told them about the Fell’s and whatever went down with Connor. That can definitely wait.

“What are they laughing about?” Hope asks Kaleb, raising an eyebrow as she glances back at Josie and Lizzie curiously. She has a small suspicion it involves her, but that could be paranoia.

Kaleb shrugs, and says, “Some guy Lizzie apparently likes. Landon, I think his name was. Curly-haired dude. He was the guy up on the roof with her. For the best, too, anyone but Connor.”

Hope’s heart does a little leap. Her mind is still stuck back on the name. She manages to keep walking, not pausing in her surprise, but throws Lizzie another glance back over her shoulder. She’s smiling ear-to-ear with this faraway look on her face. It’s so uncharacteristically happy for her.

“Landon?” Hope repeats, just to be sure.

Kaleb nods, then takes a look at Hope’s expression. Something flickers in his brain, and he wonders . . . then asks, “Oh, wait . . . Landon wouldn’t happen to be your mystery dude, would he?”

“That would be the one,” Hope confirms. 

“Ah.”

Hope smiles. She turns back to Kaleb, meeting his eyes that are watching her expression carefully. Moving closer to him, Hope gives him a gentle nudge in the arm.

“I had a really good night, by the way. Thank you,” Hope tells him, sincerely.

Kaleb can’t help but return her smile. When he holds a hand out, palm up, Hope puts her own on top. She laces their fingers together. Kaleb finds it unexplainably cute. 

“My pleasure,” he tells her, and means it. “Any time, Miss Were-Witch.”

Hope laughs softly, ducking her head. Then she’s giving her head a slight shake and looking back up at him with a smile so wide that it crinkles the corners of her eyes, and he has never seen so much  _ joy _ . And she’s never felt it, if she’s honest.

“I’m glad we all had a good night,” she says. “And no. I don’t wish you were anyone else.”

“So,” Kaleb grins, his eyes darting somewhere over their shoulders, “you wouldn’t swap places with Lizzie?”

Strangely enough, Hope’s actually certain without needing to think about it too much. She shakes her head, squeezing his hand lightly, and says, “Definitely not. I’m happy as I am.”

“So am I,” Kaleb agrees.

They all continue the walk up to the school in relative silence. They sneak back in the way they came out, through the tunnels, and luck must be on their side tonight, because they all somehow manage to escape back to their rooms without being caught.

Until morning comes, of course. Then it’s quite clear that, luck? Not a thing. And the universe? Hates them, totally against them, and will never let them forget it.


End file.
